3WW (Eclipse, Languis, Velocity): The Story of George Porter

George wakes as he does every morning, hugging his second pillow. Somehow, the pillow always escapes from under his head and magically appears in his arms. It's not the pillow he intends to hug but Mary. His Mary. He hasn't actually hugged her in 40 years. He has forgotten her face, her smell. But not her touch, not the sweet caress of her hands across his back. If only he had a picture or some keepsake.

His wife's touch is soon eclipsed by the fading faces of his four children. Two girls and two boys. Vibrant young minds and bodies. Full of energy. He remembers them preparing for the holidays. It's his last memory of them. And then they were gone. Like his wife. His entire family gone in the blink of an eye.

He lifts himself from the single bed slowly, his 78 year old bones creaking and crackling with each movement. He moves to the small kitchen and gets the coffee perking. He rounds out his morning routine with a trip to his front door to retrieve his paper. October 13, 1986. On the front page, Reagan and Gorbachev sitting in chairs opposite each other. Atop the picture reads the headline, 'Reykjavik Talks Collapse'. He laughs to himself every time he sees Reagan. An actor as president. And not a particularly good actor. He can't help but think of Bedtime for Bonzo.

After he lost his family - the winter of 1947 - George moved downstate to the City. With no money, no family, and no friends, he wasn't certain how he'd survive. So, he languished on the streets of New York. Covering himself with what blankets local churches offered. Picking through trash outside restaurants and markets. Walking the streets of New York in a daze, cursing his luck.

An old man named Henry 'Hank' Porter - a recent widower - took George in after finding him rummaging through the trash outside Hank's market. An ironic twist, George admitted. George happened to fit into the clothes of the son Hank had lost in the Great War. Hank eventually offered George a job in the market. George repaid Hank's kindness by acting like the son Hank hadn't had the chance to have. In fact, George even changed his surname to Porter; it was the only time George saw the old man cry. When Hank retired, he made George the general manager. Hank died in 1964 at the ripe old age of 92. His last words to George, 'I thank God for you.' In his will, Hank left everything he had to George.

George smiles at the memory. His mind wanders to the sale of the market. A good chunk of change that's serving as his retirement fund. He thinks about Hank, such a generous old man. Unlike another Henry he once knew, the old codger. George reads through the paper. In the local section, he notices an article about the Purnell School in Pottersville, NJ. A feel-good article about a local scholar athlete.

The name triggers the memory of the night that his life changed, the night he lost everything. He had had a lot to drink, too much. And he made the stupid decision to drive. The car's velocity increased along the snowy road. He came to a sharp turn and couldn't maneuver; the car rammed a tree. Disgusted with himself and his circumstances, he made his way to the bridge ready to do the unthinkable. When some nutjob named Clarence jumped into the icy cold water. George saved the man.

While in the bridge's guard house warming themselves, George spoke the words he wishes, to this day, he'd never spoken, 'I wish I'd never been born.' He recalls all too clearly Clarence's response, 'Okay, you have never been born.'

George laughed at the odd little man and departed only to find that his wife, kids, friends, town, house - everything - was gone. Not gone, exactly, but not the same. No one knew him. No one remembered. Somehow, his entire life had been erased from existence.

The doorbell rings. George opens the door. On the welcome mat lay a copy of Mark Twain's The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. George opens to the title page. It reads, 'Dear George, It was still a wonderful life. Thanks for the wings. Love, Clarence.'