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Spring Cleaning

Perry looked upon the corpse with some contempt, but it was overcast with a guilt of the immediate moment. He frantically jilted his head in various directions searching out a presence of any other conscious entity, the absence of such entities in his peripheral yielded little comfort. No one else knew, but he knew, this was what had given him such pent-up discontent. This person whom he stared at on the ground, in a contorted serenity was a burden now more so than when she was alive, she didn’t deserve the state of non-existence she was now obliged to contend with. He left her there lain in the awkward rag-doll position she had taken upon impact of the pipe to go to the kitchen.

The kitchen was pristine bearing every technological majesty contemporary culture could muster, a blender with a plethora of options, a sink with an operable garbage disposal, a microwave with every conceivable preset fathomable. Marble countertops, a two-door fridge which maintained a designated temperature for any potential dish, and an egregious amount of cabinets to accompany the wealth of food stocked. He trudged through this room with a monstrous displacement, he recognized he did not belong here, everything was far too new and clean. He grabbed the mop from in between the fridge and a wall of human high cabinets. He couldn’t find a bucket with which to use the mop and reflected on how inefficient the task of cleaning the floor must otherwise be if she didn’t own a bucket. He grabbed a bowl from the pantry above the dishwasher, a relatively large salad bowl, he thought that this might suffice in place of anything with more efficacy. He returned to her.

Her left leg which had originally been bent had since his departure given out from the tension and lack autonomy on part of its owner. It had pushed the blood which now manifested as a curved puddle occupying the space surrounding the poor girl. Perry began mopping up the substance thinking how reminiscent of tomato soup it was. He lifted her right arm to better wipe up the liquid and heard something more penetrating to his senses than the silence which followed the initial act. She uttered a groan. He immediately dropped the hand and as it hit the ground from the dynamic release another groan imbued with even more discomfort bellowed at his feet. Her body began convulsing in wholly inhuman ways, her back arched in an impassioned yelp to live, one he quickly muddled with the mop he had been holding in his other hand. She squirmed as he continued to mute her like a deadened trumpet. And just as she had burst back into reality her presence had vanished, the song the trumpet was attempting to play had ceased. Perry began crying.

He didn’t know what he would do with her. He didn’t know what he ought to do with her and disturbingly he found he didn’t know what he ought to do with himself. He thought he could rely on his own thoughts and notions, but he killed her. Something which previously he wouldn’t ever have condoned. He didn’t know how to live with himself when he found it inconceivable to even trust himself. He kept mopping.