Paper Burns Nicely

Paper and porcelain coffee cups were piled high on the counter, waiting to be washed or swept into the garbage. I sat on a well worn armchair by the electric fire, pouring over three months worth of bills. With a sigh, I stood up and threw another cup onto the heap. I wandered over to the window. The rain was coming down hard, adding a contemplative rhythm to the grey evening. I leaned against the windowsill. The unpainted wood felt rough under my hands. I turned back to the counter. I was filled with a vague panic that was blurred and obscured by the sound of falling rain. My thoughts were interupted by an urgent pounding.

“Open, damn it!” I heard someone yell. “I am in desperate need of something bitter!” I crept towards the door. Outside, standing in the rain, was a college-aged girl dressed in nothing but a silk slip. Her nose was pressed against the glass and she was repeatedly kicking the door. Seeing me, her face brightened. “Are you the proprietor of this fine establishment?” I nodded slowly. “Then let me in for god’s sake!” The brass handle was cold and round and real. I turned it. The door opened a crack. She stumbled inside, grasping my shoulder to steady herself. 

“Coffee. Coffee, please!” She gasped, collapsing on a stool. I grabbed a mug and walked over to the sink to clean it. The water was scalding. I took a brief moment to breathe in the steam. “Coffee!” The girl demanded. I blinked, filling the mug with thick, slow fingers.

She snatched it. “Fuck! That’s hot.” She swore, taking another gulp. “God, I love coffee. It’s fucking terrible!”  She jumped off her stool and ran towards the window. The stool tottered for a moment, then fell to the floor with a crash. I started panting.

The girl grinned. “The world, it’s ending you know. It’s all ending.” Grimacing, she pushed the window open. It took a few tries, but finally the cold wet air poured in. She stuck her head out, then moved to the next window. “I don’t know why you keep these closed.” 

“The world’s ending?” I finally managed. 

“Yes. Drink up.” 

“Why… Why is the world ending?” 

The window she was struggling with shuddered, releasing. “The God of numbers decided he wanted everything to be infinite. Less work, you know? But if everything is infinite nothing exists!” 

I poured myself another cup of coffee and sat back down on my armchair, glancing at my bills, all that paper. I was far too overwhelmed by reality to deal with cultists. 

The girl followed my gaze. “You don’t have to pay those. Soon they will be infinite number of them. And not even Jeff Besos can pay infinite bills. ” She laughed. “The world's ending!” 

She walked over to where I was sitting and fingered through my bills. With a toe, she prodded the thick glass of my fake fireplace. “Maybe you should burn them.  

“That’s not a real fire.” I responded despondently. 

She smashed the glass. It splintered, then burst. “Now it is.” 

I gasped. “I… I.  I didn’t know you could do that.” 

She lifted her arms. “The world is ending.” 

“Alright.” I leaned back against my chair, exhausted. “ The world is ending.” I picked up my stack of bills and chucked them into the eclectic fire. Paper burns nicely.

 

Yellow Sweater

WA

YWP Alumni Advisor

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