The Countdown

The countdown has started. In the communal flower garden in the center of the village, the blooms wither and fall to the ground as we call out the numbers together: 28! 27! 26!

We’ve never reached zero.

But many times we’ve awoken to ourselves, restrained by vines, in the park, the sun pleasant and warm, and we pass a pleasant afternoon there, content, and the good mood lasts for months, until we remember the countdown, and that we never finished it.