Last night, I was standing in a drunken haze, on the edge of some curb in the isolated heart of New York City. I hadn’t been out at the club or at a bar like most passerbys would assume. In my apartment, I had finished off a bottle of Hennessey and flushed it all down with a cup of god-knows-what. Not even an hour later, I guess I had somehow drifted from my place on 59th street and had began coasting the 34th on foot. I slumped down on the icy curb — my mind functioning fine but my body rewired, all the strings put in backwards and out of tune.

New York City Street — Night is a photograph by Vivienne Gucwa which was uploaded on December 11th, 2012

Last night was many nights ago

Last night was a hot and cold fever dream

So naturally, last night, my fairy godmother came to me.

She wore a fur coat and had emerald eyes. I couldn’t tell her age. Actually, I couldn’t tell a lot about her. I’d never seen her before. She didn’t introduce herself as a fairy or godmother but she held the essence of one so I believed her and all the little things she didn’t say.

She asked me, “how does it feel to be the last person in this world?”

Her words did a number on me. A bit panicked and gullible, I took in the isolation around me. It was all very stiff. Even in the unforgiving cold of Manhattan, I felt a shameful shock of heat penetrate me. In a fit of all of my emotions encircling each other in my alcohol soaked brain, my eyes scoured the streets for some…