What I never understood was the old wallpaper,
Probably saturated with coffee, and moisture, and mold; bulging and peeling at the edges.
That ornate Victorian print has no right hanging here:
The utter injustice of it all;
Every metal chair from a different flea market; shards of eggshells go unnoticed in the lavender scones;
The lock on the customer restroom had been broken for years; so it stands empty because trust is a freighting concept. They don’t even take credit cards anymore.
The bulbs are bare, and only half of them burn on any given day.
The coffee here scorches the same way every time:
It has a compelled interest in seeing us hurt, and we like that attention.
This place has to be shut down, plastered up, and covered in sheets for the rest of eternity; allowed to dissolve into nothingness, where even the weary, static time and space will decay into dust.
Decades will pass and the first black hole on earth is discovered.
Science gods are forgotten, and a memorial is made.
“Sadness made everything disappear,” they tell the tourist hordes, “Unimaginable pain made the entire place collapse.”
The tourists remember the waiver they signed, realizing the lawlessness of the whole situation.
They panic; their stomachs give a definitive lurch, and they go home.
Darkness has a way of invading the deepest parts of the human mind.
Sometimes a few pieces of wallpaper flutter out from the abyss, as weightless as angels;
Sometimes a hesitant fire erupts around the edges and is quickly killed by the strain of existing;
Sometimes a lonely traveler stands behind the yellow caution tape for hours and hours, listening to the black hole’s secrets; and, overcome and blinded with its startling beauty, he dives in.
He falls, faster than the speed of light, into an infinity greater than himself.
Eventually, he forgets about his body; his memories are left behind, but he is finally happy.
Nobody on earth remembers him.
Eventually, the tourists stop coming. The black hole is filled with cement, and a supermarket is built on top.
A few years later, a customer deciding between pinto or lima beans vanishes; the cans fall to the floor.
The next day, everything vanishes.
Only the corrupt laws of physics remain, laughing, waiting for the Next Big Bang.
But the Next Big Bang never comes.
The void stands still.
Inspired by this Prompt