Everyone But Me

Last night, I slept like a child. I had not heard the rain fall, or feel the sun rise. It was the type of sleep that you have after a tiring but happy day. It was the type of sleep that left you joyful and excited in the morning.

When I woke up, the day was quiet and warm. I sat up in my bed, yawned and rested my chin on the windowsill next to my bed. The city had sprawled itself out over the small tropical island like a lazy, gray bird. The earthy smell of damp soil baking in the sun wafted up to greet me. The sky was crisp, blue and clean.

I had slept in late. Despite the fact that it was already past noon, I could still feel the delicious coolness of moonlight lingering on my sheets. I breathed in the smell of perfume and detergent that had soaked into my pillow after months of use. For a moment, I considered settling back into the pillows, but then a quick burst of energy fueled a hop that carried me out of bed.

In a few minutes, I was at the kitchen cooking myself a late breakfast. Two small eggs sizzled on an oily black pan while whole-wheat bread crisped up in the toaster. I grabbed orange juice out of the fridge and poured myself a glass before I watered my plants and fed my goldfish. I smiled at a little green vine that had twirled its way up to my balcony. It peeked through the grill hesitantly, as if waiting to be invited in. Outside, there were birds drenched in gorgeous colours flitting from one tree to another. From the distance, they seemed to dangle precariously from branches like sweet, ripened fruit.

When I stepped out onto the street that afternoon, I expected to be greeted by thick, sticky air. Instead, the weather was light and cool. This pleasant surprise lifted my spirits as I began my brief journey towards the rather special item that I had been hoping to acquire for quite a while.

I walked past glass windows that glinted gently at me. I stepped over small, potholes that shone with golden-brown mud. I paused to read every flyer, billboard and sign that I had never noticed before. As I walked and walked, I realised that I no longer felt as if I was part of the world. I felt like I was spectating it. It was a piece of art - a painting depicting a scene from a part of history so far away that it really and truly didn't matter anymore.

When I arrived, my eyes searched for the item that I had walked all the way for. There it was. A dress.

It was the colour of the ocean. In fact, it seemed like a piece of the ocean itself was cut out and sewn delicately into a soft layered skirt, a neat bodice, and flowing sleeves. It was displayed on a mannequin, like it always was. For the past few months, I had been stopping to gawk at the dress for a few minutes every single day on my way back home. It was one of those things that I wanted, but didn't need. Though even if I did need it, I could have never afforded it.

The dress looked as perfect as it always did even as I held it in my hands.

When I got home, it was almost dark. I glanced at the potted plants at my neighbours' door. The leaves that were usually bright-green were already beginning to wilt. There was an abandoned bicycle lying on its side a few feet from my door. In the front basket, there was a soft brown Teddy Bear. Sun-fried sheets and T-shirts flapped on clotheslines across the street. Somewhere in the city, I heard the woeful sound of dogs howling out of sadness, or perhaps, loneliness and hunger.

I felt tears prickling my eyes as I looked down at the beautiful blue dress and realised how truly meaningless the rest of my life was going to be. I slumped onto the ground and breathed in a soft, shaky breath. A suffocating storm of suppressed emotions were brewing in my head, and it was taking all of my energy to keep it all down.

I shut my eyes, and even though I tried not to do it, I recalled the events that happened yesterday. A few minutes after sunset last night, the sky had lit up again. In that confusing instant, the sun had begun to flicker like a giant lightbulb. People screamed in confusion, vehicles crashed into each other and children ran to their mothers. Even the buildings groaned like they were crying out in fear. Almost as quickly as it started, the sky darkened again, and it seemed as if everything was normal. Everything was quiet and calm. Crashed cars steamed silently as if breathing a sigh of relief. Nothing moved. No one spoke.

I had shut my eyes throughout the entire ordeal. When I heard all the screaming and confusion stop, I knew even before I opened my eyes that something had changed. Really and truly changed.

When I opened them, a horrible realisation sat in front of me, waiting for me to let it take over. So I refused to acknowledge it. I went straight to bed, hoping that I'd wake up and everything would be normal again.

I could have done nothing about it. I did not understand any of it. I had refused to think about what it all meant because the moment I chose to accept it, the weight of it all would crush me. There was so much fear, confusion and loneliness that I had balled it all up and pushed it to the back of my mind. I could sense it all beginning to fester into madness. I felt a guttural scream escaping my lips and mingling with the sounds of the dogs howling and the crickets chirping.

Last night, every human had disappeared from the world. Every single human being, except me.