I Would Rather Be In Bed

I peel back the covers and pull my eyelids open, feeling the absolute silence that surrounds me. It creeps in and fills my bones the second I wake every single morning. I used to run from it, filling this room with music, sounds of the sea, rain, old news, or just anything to keep the quiet away. Now, it all just seems pointless. The silence blankets me just as firmly as the hopelessness does.

            Glancing to my left, I view the sleeping form there. I blink slowly and feel nothing. The room around me starts waking, noticing the change in my vital signs signaling that I’m awake. Smart homes, all the rage! An indicator on the control panel beeps signaling the generator is low on fuel. I sigh.

            “I suppose you’re not going to handle that, are you?” I say to the sleeping form beside me.

            He doesn’t answer. I expected nothing less.

            I pull myself from bed and shove my feet into shoes and make my way across the room to fill the generator. My gas can is almost empty which means I’ll have to make my way out to fill it probably tomorrow. My food stores are low too. It’ll be a full supply run. I stand up and look across the room at the form on the bed and think, maybe not.

            Perhaps I could just let it all go.

            A black form winds its way through my legs. Saucer eyes looking up at me, waiting for me to fill her bowl with food. I drop my head in my hands and feel defeat claw its way up from my feet to the top of my head. Then I start laughing hysterically. This damn cat.

            I drop down and sit on the floor, pulling this stupid fluff ball in my lap.

            She resists only a little but knows it’s a useless battle.

            “It’s just you and me, kid,” I say to her, and she meows in response and nuzzles my cheek.

            I nuzzle her soft fur for a few more minutes before relenting and filling her food bowl and making myself a cup of coffee then making my way to the window to the outside world.

            The truth is there’s nothing out there to see. For the past three years there hasn’t been. A virus wiped out everything three years ago. Even my husband. The form sleeping on the bed is just a holograph made from an old picture of have projected there by the smart home.

            When the pandemic started, I got Odie, my cat, as a kitten. Mitch thought she would keep us entertained. And she has. Now, she’s all that’s left. And, as far as I can find, literally all that’s left. Why am I still here? Why stay alive? For this cat?

            Animals seem unaffected. I could just release her. Finally take the pills sitting on my bedside table.

             But I just keep living. Testing my willpower against death. Testing my sanity. Hoping maybe I’m not really alone.

            Every day I sit on this window seat all day, staring at the street below…waiting…for someone… trying to keep myself from going crazy. You think I’d try to keep myself busy, spend more time going out, gathering, doing things. But, that really only made it worse. More and more confirmation that I was really the only one left in this city. I spent so much time searching every single space looking for someone, anyone… I couldn’t take the disappointment anymore.

            Odie jumps in my lap to settle down for her daily nap as I settle into my daily zone out. The silence oppressive. Trying to remember my mother’s voice today. Then, just out of the corner of my eye on the street below there’s movement. Animals wander through often, I don’t get excited, just turn my head to get a better look. However, then I stand straight up as my heart pounds, screeching as Odie digs her claws into my legs in surprise at being dumped unceremoniously.

That’s a person.

People.