Steven Hunley
02-21-2014, 05:20 PM
Death in the Afternoon
It was winter and got dark early. At four-thirty she knew it would get dark by five. The ancient lady with deteriorating hips shuffled past Jefferson Elementary, where she matriculated in 1944.
Making the final assent to the top of her stairs, she tottered into her lonely apartment. She fixed a cup of tea, added the toxic herbs, fed the fuzzy cat, left the appropriate note folded like a miniature tent on the kitchen table next to the bowl of apples and oranges.
She put on her bathrobe and favorite slippers, then sat down to make herself comfortable on the chaise lounge facing west and put her feet up.
The cushions were as soft as a heavenly cloud. Halfway between the tree line of stately Eucalyptus, a Spanish bell tower glowed like fired clay in the final rays of sun.
Downtown and Point Loma across the harbor displayed incredible clarity. She felt she could see forever. She took a sip, the first and last sip, closed her eyes, feasted on the memories of her youth, her loves, her tragedies and triumphs, and half an hour later…she could.
© 2013Steven Hunley
It was winter and got dark early. At four-thirty she knew it would get dark by five. The ancient lady with deteriorating hips shuffled past Jefferson Elementary, where she matriculated in 1944.
Making the final assent to the top of her stairs, she tottered into her lonely apartment. She fixed a cup of tea, added the toxic herbs, fed the fuzzy cat, left the appropriate note folded like a miniature tent on the kitchen table next to the bowl of apples and oranges.
She put on her bathrobe and favorite slippers, then sat down to make herself comfortable on the chaise lounge facing west and put her feet up.
The cushions were as soft as a heavenly cloud. Halfway between the tree line of stately Eucalyptus, a Spanish bell tower glowed like fired clay in the final rays of sun.
Downtown and Point Loma across the harbor displayed incredible clarity. She felt she could see forever. She took a sip, the first and last sip, closed her eyes, feasted on the memories of her youth, her loves, her tragedies and triumphs, and half an hour later…she could.
© 2013Steven Hunley