The Extinction Level Event Has Not Happened Yet #12
by Cherie Ann Turpin
(30 Stories in 30 Days)
I should have kissed him yesterday.
I think I still hold onto my mother’s advice to let men pursue me, rather than being more assertive in matters of the heart and body. She thought it was too pushy and too forward to show too much interest or to reveal desire to men.
I think it’s a shitty way of dealing with men, especially the ones who go overboard to be gentlemen, but I ended up almost by default complying with her vision of proper female behavior, which, of course, resulted in long periods of sexual dry spells. I burned out about four different vibrators during my long wait for the “right one.” When the aliens came I was almost six years without a long-term partner or a casual lover. I’m too old to keep waiting for him to make the first move, and since the aliens devastated our planet, I guess I should try to ignore the rules and show some moxie before we die from the coming second wave.
He was right there, standing next to me, talking with me. He really paid attention to what I had to say, and I didn’t mind us walking fifteen blocks to the nearest charging station to get our laptops and phones charged (yes, we still have WiFi and cell phones–we just don’t know how long they will last). He looked into my eyes as he shared his stories of finding and losing love, how when he first moved here he couldn’t seem to find anyone who really understood him. I felt my tummy quiver, slightly.
We talked about our families, who we resembled, why we both happened to be living in this part of the city.
We talked about the restaurants we grew to love as a part of city living, and how neither of us really liked to cook as a daily habit, and how our career schedules did not bide for long periods of cooking prep or clean-up.
We didn’t talk about the invasion, or the semi-permanent federal state of emergency, or the abductions by the alien hunting squads who snatched up unsuspecting humans for experiments and other purposes which usually resulted in bloody piles of limbs and entrails.
We didn’t talk about the fall-out shelters our military built to keep the remaining humans safe, or the fact that the empty streets we walked once packed with a sea of citizens in a city that boasted a population of well over 4 million people.
We didn’t talk about how we watched cities around the world crumble and burn, wondering when ours would be next.
We talked about finding love in the fury of apocalyptic ruination, and holding fast to what remained of human civilization. We hugged, and walked back to our respective shelters just below the streets.
If we still exist tomorrow, I’ll kiss him before we go scavenge for food.
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