This is part 4 of 5 in the short story series, Errol is Dead. While they can be read in any order, you can find part one here, part two here, and part three here.

Errol is dead. And I fixed the hole in my bag.

I found enough string and the hole is fixed.

And it is quiet now. In these dank, cold halls, it is quiet. But most things are quiet. Errol was not. He was loud, he took up space, he reminded me that there was more than quiet. I tried to replace his absence by noise. I tried to go the grocery store, I tried to find something to sew my bag shut, I tried to escape the rain and listen to it hitting a tin roof. I hated every moment that reminded me I was alone. So I occupied my mind and body with menial tasks that I found necessary, but that didn't take too much energy to pursue.

Now I was out of tasks. Or maybe I was just sick of trying to find more. I had gone in the tunnels because I wanted to. Or maybe I didn't want to, but I felt like I needed to. It wasn't too hot, it wasn't raining, it wasn't too cold- I just wanted to see something new. Something that did not remind me of Errol.

But everything reminded me of Errol. Even here, where I was tucked away from all sights and sounds, I still felt as though there were things that reminded me of Errol. There was nothing here specifically that made me think of him (he had always been one for vibrant colors, he wouldn't like the bleak walls and darkness of these tunnels), but it was simply the absence of him that made me think of him. Nothing had to remind me of Errol because Errol reminded me of Errol.

I would never find another Errol. I had only come across one the entire time I'd been on my own. It wasn't likely I'd find another one again. I wouldn't find one in these tunnels, at least. Errol loved being outside and the open air. He wouldn't subject himself to the cold tunnels I now traversed. That was something only I would do. If I was with Errol and I told him we were going into the tunnels, he would, of course, follow me. He'd want to make sure I was alright. He wouldn't like it, but we would do it anyway.

He'd follow behind me and give me words of encouragement when I realized I had no clue which way I had come in and what way I needed to travel in order to get out. For a straight path, it was confusing in the dark. If I kept walking in the same direction, I should eventually come to an exit, though. At least, I assumed I must. What other options were there? I could wander around in the dark for the rest of my life but then I'd never find another Errol, if that was even possible.

Maybe if I couldn't find another Errol, I could make one. It wouldn't be exactly the same, of course, but I was sure I could do it. It wouldn't be as active as my Errol but it would at least calm me. Maybe if I found the right tools, if I looked far enough to find the perfect way to replicate him, maybe then I would be happy again. Maybe I wouldn't miss him anymore.

Errol is dead. But I see an exit now.