[ RF ] A man has lost everything he ever cared for . And yet , he is happy .

He never did care for anything. Not the smile on the face of his lovely wife. 
 
 Not the slow strolls along the beach with soft sand sifting through the gaps in their toes. 
 
 Not each and every step that their children took, turning from precious little angels to feisty, irrational creatures and beyond. 
 
 When he met Death, he declined admitting to caring for anything, for fear that the creature was dedicated to pain and loss. His impression of Death was warped in contemporary folklore and well-justified fear. 
 
 No, I never did care for all of that and all of them. 
 
 *Follow me. * 
 
 The man stood beside the figure of him resting serene and sound on the bed. The weight in between his brows had been lifted. He was that weight, he realised. He gave himself all that weight. 
 
 The man retreated from his lifeless body, which was to be discovered by his grandson bursting into the room demanding a playmate. He followed the flowing cape that he could not seem to properly see. It felt like it absorbed all the light and attention and everything else that ever fell on it. 
 
 Death led the way. As he left, the man smiled at a life well lived, and all the things that he never cared for. 
 
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 I am building the Rift-Edoras universe, prompt by prompt. Selected drafts go [ here ] ( https: //fivenswrite.wordpress.com ).
