Time Always Runs Out

They entered the room, laughing, and talking, completely carefree, not a thought in the world. They took their seats in the class, and i looked at each of them. Their time was so long, most of them had nothing to worry about. They would have long happy lives, probably grow old, to have grandchildren, or maybe even great grandchildren. They were fine. I sighed, as i looked down, and the bell rang, and the rest of the students quieted down, as the teacher rang the cow bell on her desk. a good few dozen more for her. She was doing well in her old years.

“Quiet down, quiet down! The bell has rung, so that means, shut your trap!”
she shouted above them. The students suppressed a laugh at her way of speaking. It was about as strange to hear, as seeing your great grandmother cuss out the pope. Its just not something you see everyday. The door opened, and a girl walked in late, handing a slip of paper to the teacher. She caught my notice. Her time was short. I looked back down, trying not to watch. I had been close to people with short times, and the pain when their time runs out, is just harder. Its better if you don't know the people. That way, it doesn’t hurt when their gone.

I looked over to her, and she looked to me. I didn’t look away, knowing that she would. They always did, but this time, she didn’t. She held my stare steady, and kept it. I looked away, turning to the window. An old man sat with his wife in the park, under the trees, feeding the birds, and laughing as a little white dog ran around in the grass in front of them. He was holding her hand. She only had three days left.