They set up home in the middle distance; no man's land between left and wrong. Inside the outside...no door...no key...no foundation. No ears on the walls, no deadends in the living rooms. It was cold out in the open, it was pointless pain. They quietly wished their time away...everyday.
He spoke in bursts of birdsong...short notes of joy and misery. I fed him seed, worms and balls of bacon fat. The local crows saw through him. He was a fake...I only wish they'd shared this information...I would have flown away.
The connections grew tenuous with age. The universe yawned with studied disinterest while easch of us danced towards the exit. There was no music...the last few notes hung in the air...a pretty memory..a poignant miasma of a living world. The generations would continue into the greedy void but there would be no welcoming parade...no moving words to keep the stars shinning. The numbers grew less and less and the light slowly dimmed.
The heat did funny things to their memories. Some melted clean away,
while she struggled to put the fires out. Others inched towards the
arctic region of her brain. The rest slumbered obliviously in photo
albums unaware of the carnage going on.