The Remains

I’ll never understand why no one cared. Now there is nothing left to care about.

The few of us left scrounge through the after thoughts of another time. The remains of people’s lives, when they had everything and wanted more.

We weave through cars that haven’t driven in decades, waiting patiently for their owners to return. We squint to see more than 10 steps in front of us, the carcasses of buildings in the distance trembling in the permanent haze.

There is no reason anymore. No arguing or cajoling over economies and borders and policies. Just existing in what is left, until that crumbles too.

Sometimes we stumble on a place that was once beautiful. A brick train station with grand arches, burnt orange light streaming through high windows. If you close one eye, you can almost imagine what these buildings were like, filled with an impossible amount of people going from one place to another, the sounds of life and hope and purpose bouncing off the walls.

Now it is silent, waiting like we all are for the final rest.