Prescience

When she had finally got it open, all the tiny pills--microdots--nearly fell out. Fortunately, a little piece of paper held them together inside the back half of the silver locket that was shaped like a rounded heart.

Two weeks ago he had sent it via mail. This was funny because she had specifically asked him in her last email to him--the last real communication they had ever had about three years ago (although it was getting increasingly more difficult to remember dates)--not to send her any more emails, gifts, etc.

It had hurt, even angered her husband, and raised the eyebrows of her teenage daughters. As if to say “Mom, again?” “I thought we already talked about the repercussions of having a suitor who is not only himself married but courting a married woman--you, my wife, and the mother of these two daughters. Really?” It was just a male voice that echoed distantly in her head. Throaty and froggy, that annoyed her.

She was alive. There was no doubt about it. And now all she had left were memories, well, what she could salvage from them. Her office was in shambles if that’s where she was. Yes, it looked vaguely familiar. Wires and cables hung from the ceiling. She had heard the blast, seen the bright light, closed her eyes, and then, silence. A deafening silence. For a long time. The strong scent of a great deep fire lingered in the air. That was slowly turning into the smell of charcoal. The building is leaning to one side. Though she could touch her locket, it didn't seem like she could move her legs. Or could she? Could she even feel them? If she had to ask then perhaps she couldn’t.

What was in the locket? Time to focus on something. Anything that would focus the mind irrevocably. Simply. This is life. But it felt like something illegal now, or at the very least, risque, that went against what she believed in, or at the very least what she thought she knew she believed in. She felt the cool metal. Was it the only thing she could feel? Little pills. A piece of paper. Was there a message? Was it a note?

Metal didn't melt so easily and wasn't easily blown apart. And the chain was almost pure silver. Her skin couldn't tolerate less than eighteen carats be it silver or gold. Luckily it was long enough such that her husband could not see it beneath her clothing. Prescience. Some of her clothing was missing. Singed off her body. She sobbed a little. How was he? Was he with his family? Who was left? Was there anyone left? All she had left was this locket. She wanted to call her family. But how?

Prescience was defined as the ability to see the future. Maybe not see the actual future but the ability to foretell it? Of course, that was also the realm of astrologers and fortune-tellers, neither of which she believed in. And yet, who could deny the connection, now, the awkward and now profound realization of prescience. But in one of the emails, he had sent her, the one just before last which would put that just after her 51st birthday, a scant five years ago?

Impressions. He had sent her video clips of an astrologer speaking to her as if she'd known what was exactly in her soul at the time. Something about not or never having experienced alkaline love. Like alkaline water, alkaline water was perfectly pH balanced. Water that is naturally alkaline she read passed over rocks in a stream and picked up minerals. Naturally alkaline. Just like the love he presumed to have for her. Did he?

She did. She had prescience. She knew that now. The air stirred a foul burnt aroma that stifled her breath. She knew now that he thought of her. Which in turn triggered thoughts of him. Or was it the other way around? The Chicken or the Egg? As if there was no end in sight of their (non) relationship because ever since they were the age of Romeo and Juliet that it had become impossible not to think of him, just as he had confessed in his last email to her that he had thought of her every day since they met as youths. And that he had brought himself to tears on countless occasions thinking of her. That he did not understand what had happened or really what had not happened.

What's this God's punishment on her for being unfaithful (at least in her heart) to her husband, and loving (at least in her heart) another man? The only man she ever loved, ever will love. She knew she loved him. It was a foregone conclusion. No, it was a basic assumption of life. Of her life. What she could remember. She didn't understand that the reason he wrote to her and sent her things the past few years before she asked him not to, was precisely because of prescience. What did he call it, psychism? She could almost hear him now. Calling out to her. Not saying he loved her but that he could see her. See her in her mind. See the framing of her thoughts. See her eyes. And all that was communicated therein.

She wanted to cry. But there were no tears. No time or energy left for tears. She could see him staring at her. It was like he was that secret voice in her head and he was trying to say something. Something akin to what the soothsayer or the astrologer had said to her, though she had a hard time believing at the time, now she believed. In fact, she could almost hear him saying something. That he loved her. And that he was on his way here. And that he was coming.

Carefully she removed the slip of paper that seemed to act like a buffer between the metal and the stacks of tiny pills. She held it up to the light with what little light was left coming through the hole in the teetering building and there seemed to be a bit of writing peeking through the layer that was folded. Oh, it was a note. How could it be that a note could be written on such a tiny slip? So she opened it after closing the locket so as not to let the pills fall out. She got it open easily using her thumbnail and barely held it open by the very edge of her fingertips. It read: IN CASE OF NUKE TAKE ONE PILL PER DAY UNTIL GONE. IODINE. I LOVE YOU. FOREVER.