short story: one week

Jason is watching the news. Still can't believe it went down. He's dead. He was an icon. A legend. A true inspiration. A leader of four generations. Still can't believe it, Jason takes a sip of water and rubs his eyes. Nope, not dreaming. It's real. The King is dead. He wasn't too much of a big deal to him when he was alive. Well, maybe years ago but not recently. The King was going to make one final speech in the coming months. He knew he would've wanted to have seen that. I guess not now, though. It's hard to watch, thinks Jason as he picks up the remote and changes the channel to something more uplifting. Two people enter the living room. It's his Mother and Father. They're also talking about The King. About the funeral plans being on Tuesday at the huge stadium right down the block from where The King passed. The three look at each other and think it was just one week ago when millions of people around the world were thinking and mourning the loss of The King. Jason thinks about how he was having dinner talking to his mother who had just come home from work and heard the breaking news. The news that The King had been rushed to the hospital. Wow. It hasn't been the same since. It's been all the talk. It will be for months. For the rest of the summer. He's gone. Forever. The King is not here anymore. Life goes on. Jason knows that very well. He thinks that it's that everyone is still in shock. Still can't comprehend that he's gone. The King is gone. He changes back the television to the news and watches the latest coverage some more. He turns around to his father and says,

"At least we have the memories."


Jason picks up the remote control and for the first time in seven days, checks to see what else is on.