The Middle of The End
Written by: Elvie
The scene is a Pompeii in the making, a life caught with its pants down. The coffee waits expectantly, a thin layer of dust coating the red tablecloth and the surface of the liquid, which long ago passed from hot to lukewarm to cold.
Over the edge of the table one dainty ginger paw lifts and muscles stretch until razor sharp claws snag what was once the crisp, flaky edge of a croissant. Feline teeth pierce an exterior now hardened by time. After devouring his share of the orphaned pastry in greedy, yet genteel, bites the cat lazily licks his whiskers, crouches and springs onto the table causing the dust to rise and glitter in the early light before disappearing again into itself. Sidestepping the now empty plate he sits and raises a paw to his pink tongue. The only sounds to be heard here are the purring of the cat and the buzzing of the flies. A fly hovering above the table catches his amber eye. Tensing, he leaps. The fly escapes but the vase tips and falls to the cold, hard floor.
Dried flowers and ceramic pieces now lie beside the still and mottled hand of a woman. A woman who had once waited expectantly alongside the coffee until that flash of light and sound like a million waves crashing caused her to rise from her seat. It might have felt like being plunged into a vacuum. It might have felt like the leap your heart makes the first time you fall in love. It may have felt different to everyone, but in one exhalation the human race stopped loving, stopped breathing, crumbled beneath that otherworldly wave of light, and fell to the earth. Now the woman lies like a doll without her stuffing, discarded, upon a beautiful marble floor. A Pompeii in the making, only with no one left to discover it. No one left to lament the horror and the beauty of what remains. A large, fluffy tail brushes lightly against a lifeless hand as the ginger cat walks toward the sound of birds waking outside.
