Elias stood on the balcony, propping himself up on the stone-carved handrail. With his wan constitution, it wasn’t often that he was able to enjoy such days.
Far below, in the surrounding town, he could hear the sounds of children running around and playing. The sounds grew louder as the children rounded the corner, approaching the loft where he dwelt.
Part of him was filled with a sad sort of jealousy, part of him with warm inspiration. While deprived of experiencing such revelry himself, it honestly did his heart good to see others enjoying a day such as this. In Elias’ own world of doctors and nurses and lawyers and councilors and tutors and advisors and countless other adults in all manner of uncomfortable formal attire, this scene was like gazing through a telescope at some distant celestial body.
One of the children had a bubble pipe and produce small ephemeral sphere for the others to chase and scamper around. By chance, an errant orb drifted away from the rest, weaving and meandering its way upwards only to settle itself on the railing next to where Elias stood.
He gazed at it, admiring the swirling myriad of purples and yellows and greens and blues—and then it was gone. Pretty and elegant in it’s delicate, fleeting existence, it reminded him of himself.
As if on cue, his nursemaid had returned, yelling that ‘a young master with a constitution such as his would catch a death of cold being outside like that’ or some other admonishment he had heard dozen of times before.
If she only knew how dead he already was inside.
With slightly less that his average apathy, he returned to his world of doctors and nurses and lawyers and councilors and tutors and advisors and countless other adults in all manner of uncomfortable formal attire.