The Time Had Come
by Lyndon Perry
He sat in his chair and waited. She said she would come and he did not doubt it. She'd come for his roommate earlier and had taken him. Away. He knew it was only a matter of time.
He fidgeted. He wasn't scared; he just didn't want to go. But he couldn't tell her that. She wouldn't have listened anyway—he'd seen her take plenty of others. Friends and acquaintances passed every so often. Most of them with smiles on their faces. He could never understand that. Where they were heading just wasn't someplace he wanted to go.
You'll see him again, she had said, laughing, when his roommate left. I know, he'd tried to respond. I know!
He soon heard footsteps; they were coming nearer. She was coming back like she said she would. For him.
"Time for supper, Mr. Grossman," the aide called out, bubbly as ever. "Shall I take you to the dining room now?"
He grunted. What choice did he have? He'd had a stroke the previous year and couldn't walk or talk. So, the aide wheeled him down the corridor. He would see his roommate again as promised, at dinner. After all, she said she would come.
© 2007 Lyndon Perry
Lyndon Perry is the founder and editor of Residential Aliens, a zine of speculative fiction "from the Seven Stars." He'd always wanted to write, and finally his time had come. This story was previously published in MicroHorror.
