I hope You Sleep

I

Many years before any of us had been born, Mrs. Summers explained to the class, it was discovered that the stars, galaxies, suns and planets were all falling away from one another, what I couldn't have known then was that one day, I would be falling with them.

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For the first few years, I was vigilant. Each day, I scanned the black for signs of life, signs of anything but emptiness. Each day was the same as the last.

Now, my days consist mostly of sitting and watching the vast and everlasting array of lights shimmering above and below, each glow with its own billion year history, maybe even its own planet with people looking up, wondering if someone was there, wondering about me.

By the time I had woken from suspended sleep, the oceans had already burned dry. Leaves and bark, boys and girls- all turned to ash. Our mission was one of hope and desperation. But our time went too quickly and I had been caught in the middle.

Something had gone wrong with Samantha's O2 filter and sleep turned to death, but there was no panic, no screaming, just a still slow dream that never ended. I was all that was left, a single man in a sharp tin can tearing silent across the stars.

After a few years, I decided I had to give Samantha a proper funeral. It was more for me than her. She was already at peace. Her body was merely a shell, her spirit needed no closure. Nor did I. That had come a long time ago.

It wasn't to say goodbye, I was doing this because I couldn't live with another human so close and so far. Even if she was only meat and bone in the shape of Samantha, it still felt like there was someone there, someone who I couldn't reach. A reminder of a girl I once knew, a girl I couldn't save. I wasn't strong enough to watch her fade.

I lay the white plastic body-bag beside the sleep chamber and unzipped the front. I would have to be fast. She had been neatly preserved in the water, but once her body was out, decomposition would take what it was owed.

As gently as I could, I reached into the murky green water and pulled her out. Her skin was like rubber beneath my fingers, her bones soft but still strong from the preservatives. She felt faintly human.

Holding her in my arms, I felt a flutter like I hadn't in a decade. My heart grew in my chest, my insides tingled with a thousand strokes of butterfly wings. I would never again be so close to another human.

Every minute she was exposed to the air, she lost more and more of herself to death. I didn't want to see it, but I couldn't let her go. Soon she would be truly gone. I sat there, hating myself for watching her fall apart and not have the strength to give her body the dignity it deserved. I held her tight; eyes closed behind welled up tears. I held her even as she slipped through my fingers.