When I Hear The Calling

Change

My mind is conscious, my eyes are closed, thinking about the movements and sound waves of my neighbors next to me, below me, and above me. "What are they doing?" I think to myself. A sizzling skillet to my right. A group of loquacious people above, and silence below. I open my eyes. I begin my routine.

I stand by the sliding door, then I enter the living room. The sofa pillows were neatly placed. The wooden floor was polished, and the city view was extravagant. I walk over to the kitchen nestled on the far dark side of my apartment. I make something simple. I grab a loaf of bread under a shaded region. I grab a knife from the brighter region and cut the loaf into two slices on the island, grabbing the soft bread I place it in the heating compartment.

I open my nearly empty fridge and looked through for a topping. Peanut butter, jam, and red peppers on the top shelf. I eventually settled with an avocado, still ripe. Opening the heating compartment, I'm hit with a gust of hot air as I quickly grab the two slices and gently place them on the island hearing a crisp thud landing on the counter. I roughly cut and scoop the chunky green substance then I spread it across the toast. Added with salt and pepper. Something simple.

With my plate in hand, I steadily walk to the sofa. As the sun is now beginning to cover most of the city by this time, I could see the heads of businessmen and wanders below. In a rush or ambling, they all had somewhere to be but I didn't on my day off. Sitting on the sofa I reached to place my food onto the glass coffee table as I skim the material to find a matching glass remote...found it. I reach for the plate back and turn on the television, stretching out into the cushions, letting the grey drown my body.

I only watch the news. The only channel that matters to me now. I pay attention to the voice of a woman as I take a bite of my toast.

"Another tragedy has occurred this morning, around two hundred have died near the coast of a recent tsunami that swept through the town, we-" Her face went numb as she said those words, then like the flood, her face was washed over with shock. The woman raises her hand to the headset with a series of nods.

"Uh, we just got in, there was—a mistake." After a long pause, her expression turned back to what it was before. She begins to speak again.
"There are no deaths, just minor injuries."

I took a bite of my second toast.

The woman dragged an upside-down "U" across her face in front of the camera showing her sorrow. Yet, her eyes were obviously narrow since the correction.

"The birth rate has gone higher, and has no sign of slowing down," she said with a low tone, filling up her chest and then letting out a nine-to-five sigh.

She looks at the screen behind her, showcasing the drowned homes where only the roof is visible almost like the town was just filled with roofs and telephone polls.

"I just hope we have another alternative that can fix this issue—but for now, let's check the air quality."

I turn the television off, staring at the reflection in the dark abyss. A boy with dirty blond hair holding an empty plate. I get up from the sofa, the cushions immediately reform to their model shape. I walk toward the sink and place the dish on the stainless steel. I stand leaning on the counter. I look into my fridge, no food. Almost no food. "Should I go to the grocery store?" I speak to my skull. I didn't wait to hear the air quality but seeing the people on the streets without their pollution masks, I decided it was safe and headed toward the front door. Grabbing my wallet and my phone into my bedroom.

I close the front door behind me. The air was clear today, enough for me to see the bottom of the apartment complex, I live on the fifth so, it was a good air day. I head down the stairs thinking about the news channel. How she was upset by the fact nobody had died that day. That's when I knew that this was the world I live in. A problem where catastrophic overpopulation exists on top of the high pollution and sea levels. It's like we're living on a dying tree standing on breaking branches until the last twig breaks, and we are standing on that last twig. I hear a crack.