Charlie faced the white top of his washing machine while it rattled and thudded along in the final stages of the spin cycle, ‘Things… they’re not right. Not right, not right, not right, not right, not right, not right, not right…’ He spoke in time with the cyclical thudding beneath his eyes, it wasn’t that he felt bad. Or that he felt insane, his heartbeat was in fact quite peaceful. He touched one hand to his bare chest just over his heart to confirm the calmness of his present state.

But that sense of wrongness wasn’t gone. In its place was academic curiosity, almost idle, detached.

‘If things were wrong, shouldn’t I have noticed before now?’ He asked the question just as the clothing began to finally slow down in the machine. The rapid spin became slow, the slow became nothing. ‘Only the Earth spins now… and the solar system, and the galaxy… all caught in the gravity of… god shut up…’ He told himself to stop thinking, for once. Charlie flipped up the lid and yanked the clothing out, popped open the dryer, and flung the load inside. He set it for ninety minutes on high heat and mashed the button with his thumb, true to form the machine began the long tumbling cycle.

“Now… to deal with you.” He said when he spun on his heel to stare at the source of the buzz. At least his path to the bed was clear, the wood beneath his feet was warm and comfortable, the light gleamed off the beading water on his freshly washed feet, his limbs swung with confidence as if he were a bully about to pick on a poor victim.

The buzzing was like a bothersome barking dog hiding behind a fence, like a little thing certain of its safety. “You’re no match for me, Alarm Clock.” He said and when he reached the head of his bed he bent over and began to toss things aside. The bedside table had to be moved away, but that was no obstacle.

“Nothing will save you now.” He taunted the soulless device and threw pizza boxes, buckets, chicken nugget containers, paper bags stained dark with old grease and even a few clothes that he had to stop to hold up and look at. A shirt hung loose between two fingers.

It was a dark brown now.

“This… this used to be white. Dis-gust-ing.” He tossed it off into the ‘replacement pile’ that was starting to form and smacked aside the roaches that scattered at the approach. “Flee little bug bastards, hide for now… I will come for you with roach traps and motels you will check into and never check out of.” He pronounced with the mockery of a divine voice thick on his tongue.

And then there it was, buried deep, absurdly deep, was a little black square about four fingers thick, buzzing away.

He smacked the top to stop the alarm.

It kept buzzing.

“Arguing with me? Bad move.” Charlie said and picked it up, holding it in the palm of his hand he brought the other hand high overhead and slapped it down on the surface.

The buzzing kept going.

“Okay… ah… now that I think about it, why do I even need you? I’m not ‘working’ and I haven’t been running in…” He looked down at his belly, he could no longer see his own penis, “too long.”

“Okay maybe I should start running again, but still, I don’t need ‘you’ for that.” Charlie told the alarm clock.

“Nothing to say?” He smirked, it had plenty to say.

It buzzed on, the buzz, followed by silence, followed by buzzing was almost a mockery of his own mockery.

“Bye bye then.” He said and grabbing the black cord that kept it connected to the outlet, Charlie gave it a firm yank and went to the window, he held it out with both hands, poked his head outside to look down to ensure it was clear, then dropped it.

“Thirty-two feet per second. One. Two.” Crash. The thunderous echo of the little clock smacking into the now empty dumpster was satisfying enough to bring a smug look to Charlie’s face. “That takes care of that.”

Then he noticed something…

He didn’t hear the tumble.

He looked behind him over to the little space where the dryer sat, and it sat in silence.

Charlie scratched the top of his head and went over to where it sat, then opened the door to check, his hand went in and touched the clothing. ‘Not dry… not completely.’

He turned it on for another thirty minutes, and with nothing else to do, he waited.

And waited.

And then it was done.

He opened the dryer with a quick tug followed by the click inside the door and pulled out his now dry clothing.

‘Did I really spend that much time on that stupid clock?’ Charlie asked himself while he began to get dressed again.

He glanced at the pile while he pulled on black and white striped shirt and began to button it up.

His underwear, pants, socks, and shoes followed, then from there without answering his own question, he turned the handle of his door and exited the room.

‘Good wine awaits.’ Charlie told himself and he descended the steps with almost a jaunty stroll.

The sky had a morning red to it and a distant sun slowly coming up on the horizon, a welcome sight a thousand times over. The hazy clouds drifted along and people moved about their oblivious lives, and to each of them he passed, men and women in business suits, young women in dresses with their hair done up or hanging loose, children walking with their parents to school or students from the University trying to stagger toward classes they were probably going to be late for.

The world went on, and to them all, Charlie did his best to present a happy face. He’d lost his more chiseled features with the growth of fat and the lack of exercise, giving his smile a cherub like appearance, or so he thought when he caught his own reflection.

He gave a wave when he passed familiar shops and a smile to strangers, though it troubled him a little that his walk had become closer to a waddle or a shamble. However, he did his best to appear cheerful.

‘I’m allowed to be happy… at the very least I can do that much, and maybe make the people around me a little more cheerful… whatever we can enjoy before the end, that’s not a bad thing. Right?’ Charlie asked himself in his own quiet way.

The bell just inside the liquor store rang when he entered and he immediately looked to see who was behind the counter. ‘Did she quit the store when she got married? Or… wait did I make that phone call for her so she could get a job… or didn’t I? I’ll have to ask Josef. Or maybe her, maybe I should stop by their home. Bring over a bottle of wine for them after I’ve had one for myself.’ It was a pleasant enough thought to make him smile, though behind the counter was not Mileva, but an older man with a gray smattering of hair that showed he wasn’t that great at shaving anymore, having missed half his face.

He had a head that would be truthfully described as bald, despite his attempt at a combover that wasn’t fooling anyone. He wore casual clothes, a button down shirt and jeans, and had a bit of an old man paunch to himself and a frown that seemed painted on his face while he stared down at a small book of crossword puzzles folded with the front cover under the back and tapped a pencil impatiently on the paper.

He looked up, saw Charlie, and then went back to what he was doing.

Charlie returned the favor and ignored the old man, going to the wine section of the store, he snatched up two expensive bottles and went to the counter where he set both down. The old man at the register either ignored him still, or just didn’t notice Charlie’s presence.

“Having a little trouble?” Charlie asked.

The old man grunted. “Whatta you care?”

Charlie shrugged, “I don’t, but I’d like to make my purchase, but I used to do a lot of crossword puzzles, lay it on me.”

“Six letter word for fate.” The old man spat out without hesitation.

“Doomed.” Charlie answered immediately.

The bushy gray eyebrows furrowed.

“That was fast…” The old man said and wrote it out, then gave a satisfied nod. “Looks right though. Want another?”

“Sure, why not?” Charlie shrugged, “I don’t have to work so… fire away old man.”

“I’m not that old.” The old man said, “I’m sixty-eight.”

“Then we have a different idea of what ‘old’ means.” Charlie teased and the frown slowly faded away.

“Fine, system of question asking, seven letters.” The old man shot out.

“Science.” Charlie replied without pause.

So it went for several minutes until the old man put the pencil down. “You weren’t kidding… you’ve done a lot of these.” The old man said and marked the page with a slip of paper. He closed the book and set it aside to scan Charlie’s dark bottles.

“Five percent discount. For the help.” The old man said and then held his hand out to accept the black card Charlie handed over to him.

“Thanks.” Charlie flashed his cherubic grin and the old man swiped the card and handed it back.

“Hey, is… does Mileva still work here, or did she quit?” Charlie asked.

“Who?” The old man asked while he shook open two long brown bags.

“Slender blonde girl used to work here when she was attending college. Studied the practical applications of theoretical physics. I know she got married and graduated, she mentioned spending time at home but… maybe she still worked here part time?” Charlie asked.

“Oh… ah… I think I know the one. Yeah, she quit a long time ago.” The old man answered, “Before I started, but the owner used to talk about her, don’t know where she is now but… not here and that’s the sum of how much of my business it is.”

“Right, figures.” Charlie said and when the old man put the two brown bags together into one large plastic one with handles, Charlie accepted it. The bag crinkled a bit and the weight hit all of a sudden when it was removed from the counter. “See you.” He said with a polite smile and nod of his head and headed for the exit.

“Now… back home for a drink and… yeah I’ll order in but maybe something better… something ‘not’ heart attack inducing.” Charlie muttered when he left the building and the old man behind and started to head home.

The sun’s orange glow was there, just as he’d left it, far in the distance as it began to descend on the world. It had done this since time immemorial, its fading glow still warming to him as he made his way back home again.

But the more he thought about it, and the more ‘off’ that felt to Charlie’s mind, it plagued him all the way home. It plagued him when he went back up the stairs when he turned the knob on the door to his apartment, and it plagued him when he went inside, where a little buzzing noise greeted him from the bedside table.