I should have asked for help, it wouldn't have been a bother. I should have used a stepstool, not a chair. I shouldn't have put anything on the top shelf of the pantry in the first place. I'm not as young as I used to be after all. But now, here I am, sprawled across the kitchen floor, barely able to move.

I reach my hands forward, trying to drag myself forward. My legs aren't working right; maybe I broke my hip? They always say it's a broken hip you have to watch out for at my age. If I can just get to the phone I can get help. Where did I leave it? The table? I might not be able to reach that. Don't think about that. Focus. Just go a little at a time.

I collapse, gasping for breath, trying to ignore what a small distance I've traveled. Screaming would be a waste of time. The neighbors aren't close enough, and I live here alone. When will someone find me, I wonder? I lurch forward a centimeter. I'm supposed to meet Marge for tea tomorrow, but she might think I forgot. Lurch. Let's see, there's band practice on Saturday. Surely someone will notice if I miss that. How long can people go without water? Lurch. Or maybe Henry will call today; he was talking about bringing Maddy and Lucas for a visit.

My arms give out and I stop. Is it getting dark already, or is it just me? Did I hit my head? I think back, but I can't remember over the screaming pain. I wait for my breathing to slow, but I can barely hear it over the buzzing in my ears. I have to stay awake. What do you do to stay awake? I've never had that problem before. At least not like this.

I shudder forward. Minutes. Hours. Seconds. It's all the same, yet so long. The table is only about a foot away now. Just a bit closer and I can get help. My limbs collapse, my head spins, and then I remember. I left it in the living room.

Tim sat on the bench in the middle of Autumn. The sky was a bright blue, and the leaves were a mixed collage of reds, yellows, and misplaced greens. He sat on a bench alone, watching different people walk by, with differently colored clothes and different gadgets. They all looked like they were in their own little world. However, Tim noticed that there was no one walking by these individual's sides. They walked alone, and when they would approach one another, they would avoid each other. The analogies were all to common to make.

Tim sat on the bench in the middle of Autumn. The clothes he wore were exclusive to his generation. One could never find it anywhere from any retailer. He wore a gray button down shirt, a black belt, shoes, socks, and pants. He also wore a gray hat, and a gray coat. His spectacles had a blue rim to represent the tears.

My children left and didn't look back. My wife left me without saying goodbye. All my friends are gone. I have this world left.

Tim sat on the bench in the middle of Autumn. He closed his eyes, hoping to die. He never did. He wondered if he was in hell. If he was, it was a strange one. It was slow, but it only burned his insides, not with a fire, but with reality.

Tim opened his eyes on the bench in the middle of Autumn. He saw the leaf fall. The leaves die, but why can't I? This world isn't mine. Why can't I be a dead leaf? Why can't I just fall and become apart of the Earth? Does this world not want me? Then why doesn't it want to get rid of me?

Tim sat alone on a bench in the middle of the world. A world that wouldn't take him in.