Little Apartments

TW: Discussions of Death

It is dark.

I don't particularly mind the dark anymore. It's been a long time since I've opened the velvet curtains as I repose luxuriously here in my little apartment.

My figure is wrapped expertly in my finest gown and I wear all of my favorite jewelry; the locket from my father, the rings from my mother and grandmother. My hair, though neatly pinned, is now a bit messy but that comes with reclining in favorable conditions.

Though I am alone, I'm not lonely- I hear people constantly moving and existing. No one comes to visit, but sometimes strangers pass by my room and will read my name and wonder who lives here. The other residents must have guests as I hear them talking through the walls in hushed tones. Sometimes they talk about current events which I haven't followed in my solitude, so they make little sense to me. Sometimes they laugh. Sometimes they cry. I can hear their prayers too.

Only a few listen. Those people will sit in silence and I can count their footsteps until they settle somewhere close by. They're so quiet that I think that they've gone, whisked across the river Styx, but they remain. They meditate in the peacefulness of my home.

Once a week or so I hear loud machines on the floor above me. I don't particularly mind them for I know they are only doing their jobs, keeping the building and grounds elegant for those who comet to visit. Sometimes they wake me though, but I can't be angry. Afterall what use is being angry?

As I said before, I live with quite a few other people each of us in apartments. There are floors above mine, so I don't see the sun very often but that's okay. I think it would be too bright for me now anyway, which is why I keep the velvet drawn. I've become accustomed to the darkness, to this peaceful, quiet place. I suppose it's for the better. I've been here a long time, and Eternity is even longer.

I repose in luxury, in a little stone casket in a little wooden box, that was padded for my comfort. It was lined with silk and velvet to give me a peaceful slumber into the next life. I enjoy my home.

And I enjoy the quiet. I like observing. Even though the machines come by sometimes and wake me. Even when I can hear the prayers of grief above me. I don't mind.

Death is a relief after all.