Software Softball

Class ended late today. He stepped out the door and into a world he recognized only from dreams. The air was clearer than it had been in weeks; crisp with a slight breeze that felt strange against his face. The setted sun still lit the pale eastern sky above the mountains with a faint light. The rest of the sky was covered with dark grayish purple clouds, parts of which were painted a soft orange color by the city lights. He began his walk down the sidewalk, towards his flat, but paused at the top of the stairs that led down the long hill. He looked out again over the valley, taken back by the foreign familiarity of it all.
To his left was an amphitheatre that looked out over most of the valley. He stepped off the shoveled sidewalk and into the snow. The first six inches of snow had been frozen solid by the preceding weeks of sub-zero temperatures, so his shoes only sunk through the top half-inch of powder from earlier that morning. He made his way to amphitheatre, across the second row, walking on the bench until he reached the middle aisle, then turned and looked out across the valley. He could see the trail of lights from cars heading toward the canyon to the Southeast. Cliffside hill, the long steep road that led to the house he grew up, in was illuminated by the streetlamps reflecting on the snowy hills. The scene felt surreal. He couldn’t get it out of his mind; he just stood there in awe.
The soft breeze kissed his face and he closed his eyes, pretending it was a cool summer breeze, relieving him from the hot summer evening. It felt like a dream. The cars drove through imaginary streets to their imaginary homes. Streetlamps, pale blue or creamy orange, lit little sections of the scene, making a cartoon of the town. The valley looked like a Christmas tree, dotted with lights all over.
“This is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen,” he thought to himself. “No matter what I do I can never share this with anyone. I’m the only one in the world with this view right now. God made this scene for me and me only. Even if I had my camera there’s no way I could capture this.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then looked up. “Thank you.”
He looked out again over his view, wishing he could stay there forever, then turned and slowly started back towards the sidewalk. He made his way down the steps to the path that led down the hill and to the underpass. His steps sounded hollow as he walked through the tunnel. It was this that turned his attention to the sound of his footsteps. He’d always loved the sound of shoes on pavement or loose gravel or dirt. These particular shoes made a soft thud when the heels hit the sidewalk. He continued out of the tunnel and to another sidewalk that was covered in snow. His path was lit by a tall streetlamp and the orange glow made the snow bright and alive.
He closed his eyes, looked to the sky, and held out his arms as if they were wings, tilting them side to side slowly to adjust his course. As he put his left arm down his right arm went up and, with his head back, he couldn't sturdy himself when he stepped on the ice. All of his weight conspired with gravity to pull him to the ground and into the snow. A spike from a small, iron-wrought, garden fence went through the back of his neck, dislocating the top of his spine and piercing his brain. Pinned to the ground, unable to move, unable to feel. He was unaware of the halo of red saturated the snow around his neck and head. There he lay, looking at the soft orange light from the lamppost. The light began to flicker. He strained to focus his eyes. The light flickered again then, went dark.