I passed the day in calm reflection, posing questions of life and death, and the sun had at last come down on my forever Sunday island. The twilight was clear, the early moon’s luminance on the balcony lovely to the eye. Soon the moon would swing away and the city lights would dwindle, allowing the glimmer of stars.
I reached for the cold coffee, drank, and replaced the cup, reached for the whiskey and mixed the delicious flavors, chasing the taste of the smoke. How many more pleasures do you want, I asked myself? My luxuries, at least, I would spend to the last.
I was finished then, no more flip-flopping. The future was too late. All this looking in, looking out, was my consciousness, awaiting the inevitable and permanent power outage. That was the long and short of it.
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