Mason Daniels

Ashes Ashes

The only noise reverberating through the caliginous diner is my shallow breathing. I’m currently tucked under one of the booth tables. The seats have many lacerations decorating the fabric, foam can be seen seeping out from the cracks. Neither rats nor vermin inhabit this diner anymore, for they were all wiped out in the blast. I wish I could tell you about the colours of my surroundings, but my eyes aren’t quite working correctly anymore. At least I still know what colour it is outside, the same deep gray it’s been for some months now. When I first laid here I thought I could feel the icy tile floor, but I guess that’s faded now too. All of the sudden I begin to cough profusely and my throat feels ablaze. Ash begins to spew all over the floor in front of me, staining it so dark even I can tell the difference. Even though the pain is suffocating, I long to ruminate about my beloved.