Jake by Jim Bartlett
טקסט Storyboard
- Jake’s eyes snap open, and he quickly turns to the side. But like his aching heart, the spot where Max always sat on the couch remains empty. He takes in a long, deep breath – really more of a sigh – and squeezes his eyes closed, hoping that by slipping into the darkness of a nap, he will temporarily mask his sorrow.
- For fifteen years they were inseparable. Always side by side. The walks on the beach with the gentle waves calling, the seagulls cawing.
- All those hikes on the trail where the trees canopied over like arches, wrapping them in a soft cool shade on a hot sunny day.
- Even just a ride to the grocery store for something Martha may have forgotten, they always went together.
- Though he knows that in some ways he should be thankful for just having their time together – those moments forever etched in his heart – and that the sickness took Max quickly rather than dragging out the pain for weeks, maybe even months, he still feels cheated. That somehow he is missing years that could have been. Unable to sleep, he looks around the all too empty room, letting his gaze fall upon the leash, which still hangs from the peg by the door. It seems to wait patiently, ever ready for that next big adventure.
- It is then he hears a shuffle from behind and turns to see Martha standing in the doorway, her shoulder resting against the frame. “I thought you might be in here,” she says. She looks down at him for only a moment before her stare drifts to the couch. “I miss him, too, Jake. More than you’ll ever know.” “I guess you do know, don’t you, Jake.”
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