My Dystopic Reality

I can hear the muffled mumble of the sisters' voices in the nanoseconds before I open my eyes and re-enter my dystopic reality.  The sleep cements both eyes shut and so I have to struggle with the lids before the right one cracks open ever so slightly, then eventually, the left.

I'm thirsty.  Very thirsty.

In the corner I can see one of the sisters sewing something as she sits in this dimly lit room.  She's long-legged.  I notice the elegance of her stature as she sits there perfectly poised with one leg crossed over the other while she hems.  She dresses in a hippie-like fashion -- long flowing hair held together on top by a clip; polyester-type pants; and a fringe laden top of some sort.  Her hair and worn skin are indicative of the sixty or so years she's spent on Earth.  I imagine that her hair was probably brown with blond highlights at one point - a few decades ago; but now it's various shades of grey.

She agrees every now and then through the wall to her sister who I imagine is doing something more productive on the other side.

"Indeed," is the last word I hear from her before I open my mouth to speak.

"How long have I been out?" I say as I try to adjust myself in the bed that I'm lying on.  I notice that the room is lit by the mercy of the daylight that seeps in from behind closed curtains.  It's a boy's room.  A young boy's room.  There are lots of posters of ships and planes on the walls.

"She's awake!" says the sister closest to me as she stands from her chair and draws nearer to the side of the bed.

"How marvelous!" gushes the other sister as she swoops into the room wiping her hands on a cloth.

I am greeted with identical smiles.

"How are you feeling?" says the sister with oil on her hands.

"I feel -- fine, actually.  Just sore," I say as I roll my right shoulder around to find that it is fully functional with limited pain.

"You are very lucky!" says the sister to my right.

"Lucky indeed!" smiles the one to my left.

I wonder for a moment if they've always been this interconnected -- or did the disaster bring them closer together?

"What is your name, dear?" says the sister to my left.

"It's Karen," I tell them -- and wait for them to introduce themselves.

"How wonderful, mine is Mildred" says the sister to my right, "and this is Annie," she says as she gestures to her twin to the left of me.

"I am very glad to meet you," I say.  There is a multitude of entendres in that sentence, but I don't fixate on the subtext for too long.

"As are we!" they say in elated unison.

"As are we!" echoes through this little boys' room. 

I assume I've been resting here for a few days at the very least, given the mobility I now have in my shoulder.  I am overwhelmed with unanswered questions.  How did they find me?  Are we safe?  Where are we right now? 

At this moment, I have no idea if we are the last three people on Earth, but I am very grateful for Mildred and Annie.  And I know, that in the next few moments, when they've finished fawning over me and bringing me soup; that they will answer all my questions and tell me everything that I need to know.