There wasn't much time left.
It had been a long day in the field. As usual, he was sipping a cup of tea. Sitting on the edge of the vast wilderness, gazing at the setting sun. His thoughts were driven by the past. The anecdotes that he wished to tell his partner. "Wish you were here" by Pink Floyd played on. Another generation all together. Wish you were here... He wished.
His had been an eventful life. His partner, his friend, his love had left him a couple of years back. He had grieved a lot. He had given up. However, he had come out of it. He had come out and had done what he knew he had to. She had always wished that she would go before him. She had succeeded of course. Leaving him alone for the last two years to battle it out.
He sipped on.
There was something serene about what he was doing. His mind lost in thoughts. His body relaxed to the point of slumber. His eyes, gleaming with excitement.
He sipped on.
He had done a lot in the last two years. He had understood that his life had to be lived. The dream had to be finished. He knew that no one cared. He knew that the only one who cared had left him. He knew. He looked at his watch. It said five to six. With a lethargic push he stood up from his armchair. The sun was half consumed by the horizon. The time was up. "The last sip" he smiled aloud. Moving to the painting yet to be finished, he picked up the brush. Put down the tea which still had some left.
The finishing touches he began to give. The wilderness suddenly grew dark. The night consumed everything. He saw then what he was waiting for. The bright light.
Time was up. His last brush stroke.