If I Were the Last Man Alive
Copyright© 2014 by Number 7
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Welcome...
This is my diary of the time that came after.
If you're reading this...
Well...
If you're reading this and I am not physically present, then I guess I'm dead.
I wonder how I died. Was it painful, lingering? Did I suffer long then quietly expire? When I went, was there anyone there to hold my hand, wipe my brow or say something comforting?
Those are questions maybe you can answer. But rest assured, I am no longer living, so the answers will be no comfort to me.
If I am to tell you my story and pass on this little bit of history, I need to make sure you understand the circumstances. Not that there is anything interesting about me— except that I was there that day. Where I went and what I did might make a difference to those who come later ... and, truth be told, might make me feel a little better about myself.
It was early spring in Florida. The days were warm and the nights cooled off enough to make sleeping comfortable. After several years of very dry spring seasons, this
spring was wetter and cooler than normal. The fruit hung heavy on the citrus trees and
growers talked about record harvests by summer.
The day it happened was just another day. I worked at home in those days and almost never had to be anywhere at any specific time. My wife died the year before, and I was still learning to go on alone.
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