After the impact

Sue lay stretched out on the floor of the small lab. From her prone position she could see the battered calendar on the wall. August 13th, 2014. Three months to the day after the impact. There’d been a remembrance ceremony a few hours ago. The governor had shown up, along with a lot of crying people. Halting speeches had been made, fruity drinks had been drunk, and much over-frosted cake had been consumed. These sort of occasions always made people hungry.

Sue appreciated the free food, even the cake. But she was eager to get back to work. The company wanted mining projections soon, and Sue’s team needed to do more drilling. They would start again early Monday morning. For now the team was just waiting for the stragglers from the ceremony to clear out and leave them alone.

Vanny wandered in.

Future tense

You will be sitting on the hard floor, concrete chilly against your jeans. You will be holding two cardboard-jacketed styrofoam cups of coffee. The half-empty one in your right hand will be yours, as you will have used the hot liquid to ward off the cold. The cup in your left hand will be hers. It will still be full because she will be playing her cello.

The rich dark sound of the cello will make you think of the coffee she ordered—black, no sugar, no cream, no flavor shots, no nothing. You will look at your five-dollar drink, more sugar than coffee, and grimace slightly.

Shelly’s voice will mix with the cello, bouncing off the concrete walls of her apartment’s basement. She will have taken you down here because Mrs. Tolliver in 7A hates loud music, especially classical. Mrs. Tolliver only listens to the Voice and to Keely Smith; she will have no others intrude upon her musical stasis.