Mine, After All

They were all gathered at the doors, begging and banging to get in. I didn’t care that there was still time to save them. Without them inside I would have more space and resources.

I walked the halls taking stock of all the vast rooms filled with empty tables, beds, and chairs. Counting it all, an endless way to languish my time. I left most dark with closed doors. My quarters were in a fraction of the expanse. An absolute waste, all absolutely my own. The twin mattresses I claimed as my own were soon stacked then multiplied. Even a king of a wealthy land would envy my bed.

Meals were a feast in the early days. Though it was all from cans and packaging I relished the portion size. Each was meant to serve a group, a family. I ate off large, bile colored, plastic trays with the tools meant to serve. My own gorging drowning out the world.

The virus turned begging to moaning. Banging to scratching. I loved to watch. Far too late to save them now but without entertainment, I observed. With everything I needed already accounted for I grew jealous. There they all were, out there together, rain or shine.

As the weeks then months went by more of them arrived, a horde drizzling in. All dead eyed, together, and putrefying. Moving sacks of grey slop, dreary and dull.

She didn’t arrive for many months. A blob with formerly posh rags draped over dull grey skin. On a rain day they all lost more of their rags and dull skin, but this day revealed her true worth. A large ornate locket set into her neck and chest. It shone brightly with such a bland background.

I watched more intently when it was close by. The proximity so rare I always monitored. The craftsmanship could not be ignored. Seamless elegance radiated from this last beauty.

I would pretend it was around my neck, properly shined and at its full glory. I drew it on my mirror. I drew it on the most reflective windows. It was mine after all, I admired it more than those sacks ever could. My interpretations could do no justice. Scavenging for items I could replicate it with were all fruitless. Not smooth enough! Not bright enough! Too sharp on the edges!

I needed to feel it’s weight. I need to feel it’s icy first embrace. The absence of its essence drawing me closer and closer to madness.

Yearning for it more than I did for fresh produce. Elevated above even a crispy roast chicken, a delicacy that tickles my sense of recollection. Not so long before. Just out of reach.

I saw something falling from the sky that last day. The sound it made came from miles and miles away but still they all turned to follow it. With them my locket would go. It was mine and it was unfair that they should steal it from me. There was no more holding back, I opened the door and chased it. So many blobs to wade through as they tore at my clothes, skin, and hair. I let out my best battle cry pushing forward still. It was in my sights, the thief had turned to my cry. With my last strength I stretched out my arms. She gnashed her teeth at me while my fingers sunk into her skin and around my locket. Yanking resulted in a pop. I finally had it in my hands. I realized in my final moments I hadn’t considered what it was hiding inside. Then it was over.