Alone

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She reaches for her spray bottle of Clorox and wipes down the bedside table with a swab of cleaning wipes. She continues to clench the spray bottle as her eyes tear up. She’s thinking of the dust germs that might have attached themselves to her since she rolled out of bed this morning. She reaches into a white bin, finds her plastic shoes, and slides them on. She rinses her hands in alcohol, snaps on a medium-size plastic glove, hooks her finger around the curtain, and pushes it aside: a sunny day, as if it matters.



She rushes into the kitchen, wipes down the handle of the pink, breast-cancer-awareness teakettle, and pours in water from her filter machine. She perches on the shiny plastic cover of her white couch, then bounces up to the sound of the kettle’s whistle.



She wipes down the handle of the cabinet, grabs a plastic-wrapped mug, wipes down the teakettle again, unwraps the mug and checks it for dirty spots, and pours her tea. It’s only when she finally settles down to gaze out the window that she realizes something is missing.



There are no cars. No birds. Mrs. Kelly is not packing up her kids to drop them off at the daycare. Mr. Brook isn’t taking his dog for their morning walk. She checks the time: 9:35. She takes a deep breath and screeches, “Hello? Hello?” Nothing and no one answers her startled voice. It is then that she wishes for someone else to be here — for humanity and all its germs, filth, and life.





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TheScribe said...
Jun. 1, 2011 at 9:19 am
Huh, this was very interesting. Really fresh, I enjoyed reading it :) There MIGHT be room for expansion, but dont worry too much about that. It was good!
 
gabbigabbe replied...
Jul. 1, 2011 at 5:14 pm
Thanks for the feedback, and glad you liked it.
 
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