Calvin Ellison was on his way to work, he kissed his wife goodbye, he promised his daughter he’d help assemble her model train set over the weekend, he apologized to his eldest son for the heated argument they had the night before, and he set off on his journey.
The journey normally took about an hour; today Calvin only managed five minutes, before a car hurtling down the busy streets at breakneck speed struck him down in no shorter than the span of three seconds.
His eardrums were significantly banged up, so he could only hear the fanintest of commotions from onlookers, all discussing what to best do with him. His sight was blurry, difficult to make images come to clear and vivid life, but he noticed various fleshly shapes causing commotion with someone he believed had stepped outside of the car, they were giving him a thorough telling off.
Perhaps that was enough to satisfy him, for it was the last situation he would see unravel before all too telling darkness overtook him.
Then came the voice, the last voice he would ever hear as Calvin Ellison, creeping into what remained of his active mind and being as clear and as loud as it could be
“Hello” said the voice
“Who are you?” Calvin asked.
“I am what you will carry with you while you’re on your way, I am ‘Enough’”
“Well I’ve had just about ‘enough’ of this nightmare, when do I wake up?”
“I’m afraid this is it for you, you’re welcome to drop back in any time you want, but it will be a different life, a different approach. You won’t see your wife again, you can’t continue to mend fences with your son, you can’t give little Caroline her model train set…perhaps history will be kind and you’ll read about them, if they’re lucky and achieve fame or historical significance, they’ll be a part of you that remembers the ride you were on before-and that, is enough”
“Do I have enough to thank for that?”
“A joke” recognised ‘Enough’
“Much truth is said in jest” said Calvin.
“The truth is ‘enough’” the voice replied.
“Is that quite ‘enough’ out of you?” Calvin replied.
A suitcase appeared before him, opening it, Calvin found spiritual belongings, every memory, every anxiety, ever far flung romantic notion, every rejection, every reciprocation.
“There’s nothing in here but the heart on my sleeve” he says.
“And that will always be ‘enough’” the voice replied.
Calvin nodded, closed the suitcase, raised his hat to the disembodied voice, wherever and whomever it belonged to, took a bow, took a step back, and was absorbed into the void awash with darkness.