Isolation

House manager Morgan came into my room. He sniffed the air and looked disapproving.
“Mrs Towne,” he began, “The Cobra Committee has issued an edict that there are to be no more visitors.”
I didn't mind. Old age had picked off my friends and family like a sniper.
“And you cannot go out,” he added.
“You'll just have to wait here until you die.”
He smiled to show it was a joke. Hilarious. I was truly isolated now. The other residents were deaf or dumb or their brain was out to lunch, or all three.
Then the telephone rang.
Derek McMillan


Pot Pourri - a collection of short stories and flash fiction by Derek McMillan, edited by Angela McMillan

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