She stood, umbrella in hand, trying her hardest not to break into pieces. She had to be strong, for the wait was long. She looked around in the hope of seeing something that could make her smile. But wherever she looked, she was reminded of the humongous task at hand. The moon was beautiful. Unlike most, she loved the crescent moon, imperfectly perfect. It reminded her of them, the tiny pieces of her far away into space. The twinkling stars were her favourite as a child. But they went unnoticed today. She loved everything about the sky, especially the darkness of the night, with floating white clouds that added a profound glitz to it.

The lake might have seemed as the source of water for the people, but for her it meant her life. She was reminded of the fact that the water of the lake was the source of life for the tree above it. Strange as it might seem to the common eye, the tree shed one leaf periodically. She knew that with each falling leaf, she was losing time. If truth be told, they were losing time. A tiny tear slid her eye and fell and mixed with the shallow waters of the lake.

The beautiful pink cherry blossoms magically flying above the lake could have brought a smile on the melancholic beggar’s face but it only deepened the anxiety and the sadness on her face. Each flower represented a mimeo*. Her mimeo. She slipped back in time to the day when eight of her mimeos were created to be sent to the other planets of our solar system. Her mimeos were the only hope to a new life on another planet. Her Earth was dying. And this was the only way. The flowers that represented the mimeo sent to Mercury, Venus, Pluto and Jupiter had already withered away. Her tiny pieces had died and so had the hope of finding a home on those planets.

“No no!” She cried, as it started snowing. Her hand joined automatically, appealing to the Lord above, to stop the snow. She thought, if the snow continues, the lake will freeze, no longer providing its water to the tree. And if the tree doesn’t receive the water of the lake, the leaves will shed all at once. The tree will die. And that meant only one thing. Apocalypse.

It stopped snowing. A tiny drop of water fell from the sky into the lake. Only if the rain doesn’t stop, the lake wouldn’t dry. This would keep the tree from dying and the Earth could live a little while longer. She looked towards the sky in the hope of seeing the meteor. She was waiting for the signal from one of her mimeos. She was waiting for the green colored tail of the signal, rather the meteor for the ordinary world.

*mimeo – replica of a human developed scientifically for different space missions