A Trip To the Moon
Magical thinking in desperate times, perhaps. I woke up thinking about a trip to the moon. Then I made a call and booked a flight. I did not hesitate.
The conflagration on earth continued unabated and the fire fighters had run out of equipment. We could afford to evacuate therefore we decided to evacuate. We stocked up on all the necessities and proceeded to the launch pad. We had to bribe the warden, no matter, we had plenty of money. The customs officer didn't ask any questions, therefore we didn't answer any questions. It was accepted, a given, that those of us who lived on the 88th floor would take a trip to the moon. But would it be temporary or permanent?
It was a cruel virus unlike any other we had experienced before. Our elders had been targeted but, as we were told by our esteemed leader, it was best to triage and leave them to their fate, which was certain death. We said our goodbyes through the glass canopy. We lied and said we were headed to the Canadian border and would be back soon. My mother shouted obscenities. I did not cry. I remained silent, but wonder if I will be able to forget her fracked face.
What I meant to say to her is already on this page. Why therefore must I record it? Please do not ask me to repeat myself again. You have asked our reasons for abandoning our responsibilities and obligations; the answer is on this page as I have said. How are we different from so many others? We march in lockstep. We wish to save ourselves.