Locket of Lost Hope

It ended with a war.

It began with the end.

Hate was, after all, one of the constants of the human condition. Hate led to violence. Violence led to war.

War left them in a world that could no longer be salvaged, existing until the last sparks of life faded.

It was a slow process, she decided, for the world to stop turning. Nature had a resilience to it, and she caught sight of green in the world when she looked out the rotted window. At times, she swore that there were sounds of animals ringing through the forest.

She sat in her chair, the legs uneven, and stared into the forest. She brought one hand up and ran her fingertip over the silver heart locket that hung from her neck.

Soon.

"Is it bad today?"

She looked over her shoulder at May and nodded. "There are more bad days than good ones, now."

Though that could be true in more contexts than she liked in this era.

"How much longer do you think, Clara?" May asked, her voice small and quiet, like she was afraid of the answer.

Clara shook her head, turning her attention back to the stillness beyond the walls of their cabin. "I imagine that I'll be bed-bound soon enough. Why linger any longer once I reach that point?"

That was the way of the world. Death came quickly, or it lingered around you until you took matters into your own hands. Ailments that could once be cured, or even treated to ease the symptoms, ravaged humanity as punishment for their war.

She caught sight of May's crestfallen face reflected in the window. "Hey, none of that," she said. "This is the way of the world."

The war left the planet blanketed in radiation, though none of them should have been surprised at that given the intensity of firepower and weapons hurled at each enemy. Generations were slated to deal with the aftermath of decisions made by the few people who were in power at the time of the war.

Clara wished she had more time before that aftermath hit her, but the pain in her leg was getting worse. Deeper. Perhaps she was lucky and the cancer could have developed elsewhere. Perhaps she could have been luckier and not developed it at all, but that was far-fetched.

If you didn't die of an accident or while trying to survive, then you lived long enough for your body to turn against you.

"I don't remember how to live without you," May said.

"You'll manage."

"I don't want to."

Clara took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Nobody wants to continue on alone."

"You're making me go on alone."

"Not today."

"Tomorrow?"

Clara stayed silent for a while before answering. "We'll see. For now, I think I would like a nap."

May came over and helped Clara from her chair, keeping one arm around her as they moved from the sitting room to their shared bedroom. Her movements were careful, and it felt good to prop her leg on a pillow while she reclined. May pulled the worn blanket over her, the pattern faded and unrecognizable. She made sure the curtains blocked as much light as they could, and added her own pillow under Clara's head to raise her up a bit.

Once May was satisfied that Clara was as comfortable as she could get, she asked, "Do you need anything else before I leave you be?"

"No, thank you."

May nodded, but hovered in the doorway for a moment before she left. Clara waited for her footsteps to fade before she clasped her hand around her locket again, the curves of the heart pressing into her palm.

Soon, she thought.

She opened the locket and gazed at the cyanide pill within.

Soon.