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Goodbyeee Twenty-Twenty-Threee
Another year expires, RIP
The masked man stared down at his patient on the trolley. ‘Not long now,’ he muttered.
He squinted at the monitors by his side then scribbled something down on his clip board.
The three sisters gathered round and Lahkesis squeezed the hand of 2023.
The man on the trolley raised his head slightly. ‘Stay with me,’ he croaked. ‘Please.’
Clotho wiped his brow as he moved restlessly. ‘Of course we will. We won’t desert you now.’
2023 frowned. ‘How did I do? Come on, be honest.’
‘You did just fine.’ Lahkesis said, patting the back of his liver-spotted hand. Slowly her smile began to freeze as she considered the wreckage of Gaza and Ukraine, while in the West the richer had got richer and the poor a lot poorer. ‘Well you did your best anyway. Can’t ask for more than that, can we?’
The masked man coughed. ‘I wouldn’t get too close if I were you. He could be infectious.’
‘Infectious? Really?’ Atropos said.
The masked man nodded. ‘It happens, you know. Do you want another year like this one? These comebacks can be very nasty indeed. And before you know it, you have all the tribute bands, Gold TV… I’m telling you, once it gets a…
