Tuesday, May 13, 2008

86 - One time on the morning of the Apocalypse

One time on the morning of the Apocalypse, which used to be the name of a city you know, Roxy Zefa woke up early as usual but between her morning coffee and her shower she heard something happening outside she couldn't believe.



Opening her balcony door (she lived in a block of flats) she looked out on a Spielbergian scene of utter and total devastation. Building in the distance had been knocked flat, those nearer her block remained standing but devastated, her block alone seemed untouched.



Real people don't follow narrative continuity and neither did Roxy, the immense scale of the disaster made her think two things:




  1. The last dream she had had, in which about a hundred of her friends had followed her into a famous volcanic cave to practice walking on water.

  2. The fact that since the view before her was impossible, she must be having a delusional episode so she should ignore it and try to get ready for work.

She followed her advice and tried not to pay attention to the world outside, because true to her prediction, as the hours passed (she enjoyed very early mornings) the buildings righted themselves and the destruction reversed itself and the world put itself slowly back together like the tides.


She went to work in an ordinary world.


The very next morning though, it happened again, she could ignore it better this time, and again, work was were she'd left it.


The third day was more interesting than the first, change-day was what she was calling it in her mind, because the third day was the first day she took a morning walk.


That day at work, the blasted artifact resting on her computer like an anthropological trophy, she couldn't stop smiling.

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