Automat

A woman discovers the reason for her sudden isolation. Based on the painting "Automat" by Edward Hopper.

It was already dark outside, but the time seemed to stop for this mysterious woman. She was sitting quietly, lost in her thoughts. She watched her cup of tea with a pensive look, as if her mind was elsewhere and she had forgotten where she was.

She thought of the events that had come to pass. This morning had been a normal one, like any other; she had awoken from an extremely deep sleep 7 o'clock, like every day, and had left the small studio apartment where she lived alone to jog. Then, she came back at 8:30 precisely to change and was off again. No time to lose; she had to be at her employer's house at 9.

However, this is where the similarities with her normal schedule ended. Instead of being greeted by the familiar barking of the dogs whom it was her job to look after, she heard only silence. Shrugging her shoulders, she continued to the door and knocked. Nothing.

"Hello?" she called, "It's me, it's Marie-Anne! I'm here for the dogs... hello?"

Again, no answer. She sighed; the old lady was nice, but a little senile; she had no doubt forgotten to call her and let her know that she would not need Marie-Anne this morning. She decided to make a phone call just in case.

The phone didn't even ring- it went directly to voice mail. Weird.

Not knowing what to do, Marie-Anne turned to the old lady's neighbors. She knocked at the next door. Nothing. She tried the door on the other side; still nothing. A feeling of anxiety slowly rose in her stomach, but she ignored it; there was certainly an explanation. Soon she was knocking on all of the doors on the street, and still found no answer.

She walked to the police station. Even if everything could easily be explained and she looked ridiculous, she would feel better if she could hear the explanation. But when she arrived, her worst nightmare was fulfilled; the station was completely empty.

Throughout the day, Marie-Anne ran all around the city and called everyone she knew. There was only silence. She panicked; what could she do? It was getting dark, and she was far from home, so she took refuge in a cafe whose door was conveniently open. She lit the lights and made a cup of tea.

There she was, sitting at a table before a window showing the dark and empty night with lights reflected in the glass with an empty chair across from her. The radiator was emitting the only heat she had felt since leaving her home this morning, and a bowl of fruit was the only source of color. Alone, isolated, Marie-Anne shed a single tear into her tea. She was panicked, sad, solitary; and, more than all, confused.