“They called it the city that never sleeps,” Jessica said.
“‘Called’ being the operative word,” Hal said as he and his wife walked the empty streets of Manhattan. “Now it’s dark and desolate.”
“Do you remember the last time we were here?” Jessica asked. “Back in the Before Times?”
Hal pulled out his smartphone and showed her a photo. “We took this one from our hotel room,” he said. “The city was all lit up and was teeming with people.”
Jessica put her head in her hands and started sobbing. “This is so sad and it was preventable.”
Hal grabbed Jessica’s hand and squeezed. “The city had turned the corner and the pandemic was seemingly defeated,” he said. “But then the President, in the name of rebooting the economy, opened everything up again, suspended social distancing, and told people to go congregate. ‘It’s time to return to normal,’ he insisted.”
“And the virus returned with a vengeance,” Jessica said. “It was out of control and two-thirds of the population perished. The government collapsed, anarchy ensued, and our once great cities are empty and in ruins.”
“All due to the ego of last president of this once great nation,” Hal lamented.
Written for this week’s Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner from Roger Shipp. Photo credit: Morguefile.com.