Author: Russell Bert Waters

“Push” comes on by Matchbox 20, you reach to turn it up but it is already increasing volume. You remember how you turned it up last time it played, so now it happens automatically.

You walk to the cupboard as sadness washes over you again. There is whiskey because the order came automatically. Before you reach for the bottle your door chimes, and you walk to open it.

“Here ma’am, your Pharma Direct RX order,” the cheerful hovering drone says through its speaker.

You accept and sign with your retina, one blink and a muttered “thanks” and the drone whisks away.

You return to the kitchen.

The bag contains sleeping pills.

You hadn’t ordered them, but you have been sad. Very sad.

It’s been a year and the waves hit just as hard.

“I’ll see you soon again, my love” you murmur, in a cracking voice.

You return to the cupboard and open the bottle. You’ve already unconsciously opened the bottle of pills.

In the distance, you can already hear the pleasing low siren of the Medical Examiner drone.

No time is ever wasted these days.

“Bottoms up,” you say, and take a big gulp.

“Soon…”, you repeat, awaiting the darkness.

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