As the old lady bent down onto her knees, she groaned and cursed her doctor for saying she had to wait another week for her knee surgery. Once her old knees made contact with the foam she had put on the ground to cushion them, it got a little easier. The old lady, whose name was Sheila, peered at her roses. She watched a lady bug crawl up one of the petals and then fly off. She heard a light buzzing around her head, and knew there were mosquitoes that were about to bite her, but she was too tired to swat them off. She picked up her spray bottle and sprayed the roses with water. They glistened, and the sun bouncing off them momentarily blinded her. She jerked her hand up to cover her eyes and unexpectedly swatted a fly that must have been on her face. As she brought her hand away from her head, the fly’s blood and mangled body was stuck to it. The old lady picked up a leaf and scraped to bug off using it, and then used her spray bottle to clean her hand. By this time, she was sweating, and the flies were buzzing around her to the extent where all she could hear was buzzzz, buzz, buzzzzz, buzz. She used her hands to help her stand up and then leaned back down to pick up her spray bottle, foam, and trowel. She then carefully stepped around the flowers, and made her way up the path to her house. She had a momentary dilemma when she stopped and tried to decide how to open the door with her hands full, and then decided to put the foam and the spray bottle in the other hand, and use the hand they used to be in to open the door. She did so, and gratefully dumped them in her old lawn chair, inside the screened porch. She then opened up her real door, and walked inside the cool house. She stood for a minute in the doorway before walking towards the kitchen. Once in her yellow kitchen, she washed her hands with soap at the sink, and grabbed her favorite-checkered glass, which she filled with, her famous home made lemonade. She put the glass on the kitchen table and walked into the sitting room where she picked up her book. It was an amazing book, the best she had read in years. She walked back into the kitchen, her book under her arm and picked up the lemonade. Them she walked out to the screen porch, deliciously cool and sat down on her favorite chair, letting the door slam behind her. She put the lemonade on her armrest, and called her dog’s name. Her dog came scampering across the lawn and stood in front of the screen porch door diligently. Sheila stood up and opened the door and the dog ran in, smiling. Sheila smiled too and went back to her favorite armchair. The dog trotted over, panting and curled up by her feet. Sheila took a sip of the lemonade, opened her book and put the lemonade back on the armrest, perfectly content. And that is where Sheila and her dog were when the world ended.
To be continued...
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