Journey into the Mind, Part 7

Standing in the doorway of his former classroom, in his former school, in what used to be a city, James gripped the doorknob as tears began to well in his eyes. Since the war, no one had returned to his once bustling city, now a skeleton of itself. The school had grown decrepit and putrefied, with dust and cracked walls now painting an ugly portrait. James walked into the room, and almost at once was hit with a resounding wave of memories. He turned around to face the blackboard, tears falling from his eyes, remembering the time his favorite teacher, Ms. Smith, had showed up to class on Halloween wearing a banana suit and had a hard time writing on the board. He remembered the sound of the children’s laughter, which cut through him like the sharpest of knives. He didn’t want to remember, but he couldn’t help it. I should not have come, he thought to himself. He turned away from the blackboard, instead facing where he used to sit. Almost immediately, memories began playing themselves like movies in front of his eyes, and no matter how much he tried, he could not stop it. He fell to his knees, sobbing in his hands.