Ever since he could remember Colin knitted. He knitted when he was at school, he knitted when he was eating, when he was reading, when his parents got into arguments. When his Dad left, when he got married he had knitted tea cosies for the guests, his first job was knitting animals, when his wife died he had knitted flowers to put on her grave. Colin knitted, it was what he knew.

He sat at home in his bland kitchen at his empty dining table in his lonely flat knitting. He wondered his purpose, why he was still on Earth, what was the point. He thought that he hadn’t really done much with his life and what he had was lost and now it was too late. At 76, his time was out and he didn’t want to wait around anymore for nature to catch up with him, he would do it himself. He sunk into the back of his chair looking at his knitting, he hadn’t thought it would be like this.

Suddenly, a hole crashed through his ceiling and a small boy peered down from the flat above. His face was blemished with tears and shock. He covered his mouth slowly. Colin looked up at him.

“Don’t worry, it’s alright,” he said slowly as plaster fell all around. “I...I don’t mind the hole.”

The boy was shocked.

“What’s your name?” asked Colin.

“Kevin,” Kevin replied slowly. Then he sat down with his legs dangling through the hole and burst into a waterfall of tears.

“What’s wrong?” asked Colin softly.

Kevin looked up, full of anger and hatred.

“Go away!” he cried before leaving the room and slamming the door above. A few pieces of plaster drifted down along with a piece of paper.

Colin picked it up. It was written in thick marker pen without much care on the back of a serviette. It read:

‘Hey kiddo,

Sorry I couldn’t make it to your 10th birthday and the one before that. I’ll make it up to you and we’ll go fishing on the 16th.

Dad.’

Colin looked at the calendar, it was the 16th today. He couldn’t help but pity the boy. He remembered his Dad had done the same thing over and over again. He remembered not understanding why, he remembered the anger and the hatred but also the want for love. Suddenly, an idea washed over him. He picked up his knitting and began to start over. He smiled for the first time in a long time anticipating the boys happiness, that they could be friends that he could help him. Once he was done, he passed up his creation through the hole and went back to his table.

A few hours later, the boy came back with a hammer and some wood and began covering the hole back up again.

“I don’t want to see you anymore,” Kevin yelled. “I don’t want to see anyone.”

Each bashed hurt Colin to his core and again, his purpose drifted away. His sadness deepened and his hope was lost.

Colin stepped on his chair, put the rope around his neck and took a breath, maybe it was his last he didn’t know, he didn’t care. Upstairs Kevin slumped against his bed but then he noticed a red knitted fish with a fishing rod. Suddenly, realising his mistake, he climbed down his balcony, grappling his legs onto Colins balcony below. His heart thudded almost as much as Colins did. Then his hand slipped and he fell only just managing to grab the lip of the balcony. Below him lay a 10 metre drop. He held the knitted fish tight in his hand.

“Hey!” Kevin yelled. “Hey!”

Colin couldn’t hear him. The world was drifting away as he stood a chair away from life or death.

Kevin threw the fish as far as he could into Colins flat and it made a soft sound against the floor. Instantly, Colin saw the bold red against the monotone greys of his flat. He untied the rope and stepped off the chair before dashing outside just as Kevin slipped away. Colin grabbed his hand and pulled him up just in time.

They stood on the balcony in a whirlwind of confusion and love in the realisation that they had saved each other. Colin thought maybe the world wasn’t so bad because it had united to people who needed each other more than anything and restored the hope that would last.