Yes, it's flash fiction Friday! This is a very short all "dialog" piece about a very quiet end of the world.
Very loose inspiration came from a realization; at some point over the past year, Nate stopped wearing diapers at night. That means that quietly, without realizing that it happened, I for the very last time changed the diaper of my child. It's a milestone, but an unremarked and stealthy one. The end of a slow fade rather than a quick cut.
Enjoy, and thanks for listening.
"No Date on our Tombstone"
by Leonard C Suskin
are you alert?
I was somnabulant. Why wake?
It still hurts.
|And the cradle will be forever empty|
The firstone awakened from time to time to talk with the collective. One day or year or millenium we noted that he'd not awakened in quite some time. We searched his conciousness, found it degraded. And that is how we've come to be together fully, the last singleton long since passed into memory, with no date upon its tombstone.