A bitter coffee for the final sleep
I was challenged to write a short story about a man and a woman sharing a cup of coffee. I do not think that the challenger had this in mind.
Each morning, he would bring her a cup of coffee to bed and slowly wake her up. Her eyes would light up from pleasure over that first sip. At that moment, that exact second every morning, he would forget about his hate.
But not today.
Today is not the day when one should forget what one hates. Today is the day when the accounts are settled, the line is drawn and all begins anew.
He sought solace in her embrace, lips, and scent. They sank completely into each other. The colors of the world melted.
“You’ll be late …” she said quietly without serious intention of interrupting him.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” he said, “soon, time will be of no importance for us .”
As they lay all sweaty beside each other, he listened as her breathing gradually slowed. He waited a little longer for the immediate guilt to pass, got up, put a kiss on her lips while her breasts stopped moving.
This is better. It will save her the pain. She is the only one that does not deserve the pain. She was a being of dreams, and to the sleep, she has returned.
It’s time to light up the world.
His leg still hurt. It was in more pain than ever before.
It hurt like that day, the day he became a hero to everyone and a villain to himself.
That day he realized the sad truth - humanity does not deserve salvation. For the world to live, change is needed, but not a change in the economic or democratic system, but a change in the way of life.
Not the way of living, the way of life. Humanity should pass on.
A resurrection is needed, and there is no resurrection without death.
He realized that people with their petty greed are slowly swallowing the whole world into that black hole they have in a place of a soul. Nothing will satisfy that hunger. Man is a parasite that kills its host, aware that it leads them both to ruin, but it simply cannot do otherwise as it has evolved that way.
We entered the fast lane on the highway of evolution and forgot to take the desired exit. We are now at the end of the road.
He got dressed as usual. Locked the apartment. That action seemed a bit ridiculous and superfluous, but habits are a weird little thing.
The destination was his parents’ house, a little out of town. It had been empty for decades until he started working on his project last year.
It is a bit poetic that Armageddon begins in the house from which he left hungry to see the world. He believed that countless possibilities awaited him in life. Newer would he guess this is one of them. When you are young, you don’t think about the end of the world, much less about kickstarting it.
He sat down at the computer and typed the command.
It’s over.
It’s time to start again.
He made coffee. This time it was black and bitter.
He forgot the milk. That annoyed him a little.
And then he started laughing. Like it matters now?
He took a sip.
Not bad at all. Perhaps she was right.
Black coffee does taste better.
“Well, it’s never too late to try new things, and admit you were wrong.”
He felt sleep overwhelm him. Are those explosions in the distance?
Perhaps it’s just a dream that’s slowly creeping up?
He finally looks forward to sleeping.
Of all the dreams, the eternal one seems to be the sweetest.