She looked over at the urn. “How is your beloved?”
Jane coughed up a wad of blood. “I lived a good life. Didn’t I?”
Sally bit her lip and turned her face away to hide the black eye. “Yes, mum.”
A few pixels died in the corner of Abi’s television. She ignored it. But pixels kept dying, spreading across the screen. It was only when It happened that Abi realised they were rats fleeing a sinking ship.
There were lights in the sky, dotted against the inky blackness. It wasn’t much to see by, but it was enough to go home by.
Heard your voice today.
Like a ghost on the wind. That’s
all you ever are.
Reality was crumbling around them, and they knew their age was aging. They did not despair. That’s just what ages do.
The mince pie wobbled on the front of the tractor. The mouse slowed down. It would take an age to get to the top of the mountain path at this rate, but the mouse didn’t care when it arrived. It was going home for Christmas and that was all that mattered.