Three Last Days - an emotional short story about Depression

Day One - Ultramarine

"The sea speaks more honestly to those willing to drown."

A lone goldfish in a bowl was swimming laps in the clear water, the only decoration in its home was a small algae sticking out of the bottom, desperately reaching towards the sun. Aurora watched the little fish swimming lonely back and forth, in a very sad back and forth indeed, for this little creature had probably seen nothing else in its life, as Romy and Josephine made their way into the kitchen. The smell of freshly baked bread filled the air; plates and glasses were already on the table, a simple vase was enthroned in the middle and the only flower that brought a little color into the house was the heather. The purple blossoms slowly sailed to the ground, as if the flower was experiencing its last moments.

"I hope you like fish, I've made salmon," Josephine said hastily, flipping the dish from the pot, the hot steam rising in her face. "I'll eat anything! I'm starving," Romy replied with a laugh and took off her bright pink jacket. "I'm not that good a cook, you know that," Josephine giggled and put down the plates of salmon. Aurora hung her bag on the back of the chair and pulled at her sleeves. "It smells really good," she said, poking around with her fork. "Here, I've brought something to celebrate," Romy revealed and placed a bottle of sparkling wine next to the plates. "To us and our reunion!" she said, ready to toast. Josephine hesitated for a moment, then opened the bottle of sparkling wine and handed out the drink.

But Aurora felt no joy as she clinked her glass, her thoughts revolving around her daughter and her death. In the background, Aurora faintly heard the sound of the waves; if you stood at the window, you could see the seemingly endless blue of the sea. The blue was so deep and dark, so mysterious and eternal. Even beyond the horizon, the powerful blue did not seem to fade, it was as if the sea was everywhere. The laughter and screeching of the seagulls over the heads of the three women filled the unbearable silence, the ticking of the clock reminded Aurora that she still existed and was sitting here at the table.

Did she even exist? What did it mean to be alive? Sure, she lingered in her body, her heart was beating and she was breathing, but ... was it the same as feeling that you were alive? Her soul ached, it ached so infinitely deeply and agonizingly. Sometimes she wondered if there was any point to her still being in the world, why she was still alive. Did people even need a reason to live? Did Aurora need a reason?

Was her reason her daughter?

"How are you ... we haven't seen each other for so long?" Josephine interrupted the awkward silence. "Well, I have to say I'm doing quite well, I've got a new job in a hotel and I think I've fallen in love with a handsome man," Romy laughed. Aurora didn't laugh.

"And ... how are you ...? After the whole thing? It must have been difficult," Josephine mumbled and lowered her fork. "After you broke off contact and left me alone? I'm fine. At least I'm still alive, as you can see," Aurora replied icily and pushed the plate away from her. She was full without having tasted a single piece. Romy and Josephine remained silent.

"How do you think I'll feel if I still can't understand why my beloved daughter took her own life?" Aurora laughed.

Not out of joy, but out of despair.