Average Jane



Poetry — a side you never knew

A man comes to work.

A photographer by profession

His assignment is mundane:

The stock exchange.

The day opens- *ding*

The shutter closes- *click*

His day has begun.

He drops off his film.

64th floor.

He walks into the office.

He sees the plane.

It hits the building.

He’s not supposed to be there.

He’s across the street.

They gather around the window.

Except one.

He is alone in a corner.

The photographer, always on duty

Takes the camera to his face.

The man looks into the lens.

The shutter closes- *click*

The man jumps.

Stunned.

Speechless.

He remembers the face.

He remembers the man.

“My best friend.”

His best friend from high school

Is gone.

The film is developed.

The face is now forever.

The last moment

Of one man’s life.

The art of existence.

The photographer retreats to his house.

No one sees him.

He drowns his fears.

He never emerges.

He can’t deal with

The pain.

Of life. Of death.

Of doing nothing…

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