They kept falling. One after the other, floating on the waves of a gently blowing wind. The descent is slow, agonizing almost but the journey is peaceful in that there is no sound. No sounds, no abrupt movements. Just a leaf sinking towards the dusty soil of the Earth. The first leaf had not yet landed when the second began to fall. Just as gently. Just as slowly. But far more agonizing. I looked away from the window and towards the bedroom door, staring at it longingly as if willing for her to appear.
“Kumiko?” I called out. There is no answer. Glancing towards the bedside table, I read the time as 1:23 pm. Briefly reflecting on which day it was, I realized that Kumiko might be out to complete her errands. Feeling at a loss, I returned my gaze to the falling leaves, though no longer interested in its subtleties. This is how I usually spend my days; glued to the bed while watching the world move forward, leaf by drifting leaf.
I’m not sure how long had passed or when I zoned out but judging by the fading daylight, I must have been out of it for a significantly long time. Funny how time changes you. I used to struggle to get through the day, especially since the only company I had was an obnoxiously loud clock that continuously ticked till the end of time. I shifted from my position so that I was sitting up and leaning against the headboard. Looking around the room, I noticed that the room had changed. The window was no longer on my left but on the right. Outside the window was the beautiful view of the ocean. Which ocean, I didn’t know, all I knew was that it was a sparkling midnight blue that stretched across the horizon endlessly. I looked away from it and focused my attention on the door. Or at least I would have had there been any. Naturally, upon such a discovery, one would panic but I felt none. Perhaps because this room, or should I say, box, had a familiar aura to it. A nostalgia of sorts.
Here Lies The End of the World 