Scales

I awake to the sound of rain knocking on my window in the old trolley downtown. The weatherman talked about heavy rain and I guess he wasn't lying. The tram moves like my grandfather after he got his walker. But riding this thing was what I had to deal with until my car got fixed. I wipe at the window and see the bus stop at a sidewalk I'm not familiar with. A man in a brown trench coat steps down the aisle.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken," he asks politely, referring to the seat in front me.

"No." I move my bag from the empty seat and sit it next to my feet. "Sorry about that."

"It's quite alright," he says while sitting.

Now, I usually sit alone, but it was kind of boring on the tram with no one to talk to. I look at the man, who is now ensnared within a small book.

"I ride this tram pretty often, you must be new here?"

The man looks up from his book, slowly examining me.

"Not exactly."

The vagueness of his speech gave me plenty of reasons to just keep to myself. I mean, after all, it's really none of my business where he's from. I look out the window, refraining from any further interaction.

"The ring on your hand, how long have you been married?"

The abrupt question makes me look at him and my hand in rapid succession.

"Oh, we just got married last Saturday. We dated for 4 years," I say with a winning smile on my face.

"It will not last."

The words shadow me in dejection.

"I beg your pardon?"

He puts down his book and stares at me now.

"The marriage will not last."

"Yeah, I heard you the first time. Who the hell do you think you are, telling me about my relationship?"

"Is the ring...heavy?"

I look down at my hand.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

He grows silent and points outside.

"Listen, do you hear the rain? Do you see it as it rolls down the glass?"

I look at the rain, failing to see a point in all this farce.

"Yeah. I see the damn rain. What about it?"

"The rain falls from above and touches the glass. Smaller drops combine to make larger drops. But in the end, they always fall apart by losing their previous identity."

"What are you sayin-"

"Why did you marry?"

"Because I lov-"

"You love your wife? Have you ever thought about the weight of your actions? Your emotions? Intentions?"

"You will come to realize that strumming the same guitar, humming the same song, and tasting the same delicacy from before will only become a grain of sand, of the past."

"We live to die, but die to live. All of this is an individual achievement. There is no sharing, only doing."

The tram stops after what feels like an hour ride.

"This happens to be my stop," the man says, rising from his seat.

He exits the tram before I even have time to utter a word.

I peer at the ring on my hand. It's so damn heavy.

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Fatal Ideals

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What Remains