The Mayor sat over his desk in the dim lamp light of his office, all alone, with only the kerosene hum to soothe him. His eyes were bloodshot as they ran over the hundreds of papers; stacked messages, warnings, desperate correspondents, all causing his hands to shake with nervous fear.
The wooden door creaked open and the old maid poked her head in.
"Is everything alright, Grant?"
Mayor Grant glanced up from his desk at the maid, then back down at his papers. "Yes, everything is alright. Go to sleep, Miryam. I can manage myself."
Miryam stepped all the way through the door and held her arms straight against her sides. She looked tired as well, her white maid's gown dirtied from the day's work and black cap barely pulled back over the top of her head. "I know when something's not right around here," she said, upset. "Something's been off for the last couple of days, and I can feel it. What's wrong? Tell me."
Grant sighed and leaned back against his chair. "Do you really wish to know? No good can come of it."
Miryam repeated sharply, "Tell me."
Grant shifted in his chair and laid his arms down over the desktop before he spoke, tired eyes scanning over Miryam the entire time.
"It's all over," he began, "By tomorrow, the entire town will be out of existence. It turns out the war is going to corrupt our town, too. At one o'clock at night, as the city sleeps, the orders will given to bomb our innocent settlement off the face of the earth. And there's nothing we can do about." He suddenly leaned back in his chair and flew one hand to his forehead, as if he had just undergone a strenuous exercise, the nervous sweat glistened on his forehead. "See, was it really better if you knew?"
She looked back at him with disbelief. "Is the really nothing we can do?" she asked, outraged.
The Mayor nodded solemnly.
Miryam stood in silence for a moment, chewing the words over in her mind. Her eyebrows furrowed, lips quivered, and the faintest tears gathered then dispelled in her eyes in a single moment, returning to her usual, composedly stern self, only flickering a flash of emotion behind her unresponsive, wrinkled face. Finally, she said, "Well, if there is nothing we can do, there is no point in fretting over it." She lowered her tone to a reassuring voice as she said, "Go to sleep, Mayor. God knows you've done enough for this town."
The Mayor smiled thinly, and said, "No, Miryam. I can not go to sleep. I firmly believe the mayor is the sole keeper of his town. And I will not go to sleep, much less shut a single eyelid, until I know in certainty that this town is alive or dead."
Miryam laid her hands down to her sides, strided across the wooden floor and set her arm on Mayor Grant's slumped shoulder with affectionate. "Mr. Grant, if I may say, this town could not have asked for a better mayor."
They looked into eachother's eyes for a quick moment, not in love or passion, but more in understanding and remembering, remembering of the days long ago where there was no war, and when the world was drenched in sherry wine and daisy flowers, when the beaches and skies were beautiful places of peace and when there was still comfort in a Christmas dinner or a family huddled around a warm fire, the flame of the past licking through the ages to comfort them in the coldness of the future.
In an instant, the moment had passed, and Miryam glided across the room and out the door, leaving the Mayor all to himself again over his desk covered in papers.
One o' clock.
The words seared in his mind like red hot coals.
One o' clock, and it would all be over.
