When Amy Slept

• Ruby Buckton, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2022

The toast was hot and the butter was cold. So hot that it was burnt to black and so cold that it was too hard to spread. Amy wasn’t bothered that this would be her last meal, and she didn’t care that it was boring, plain and probably a little less than palatable. Because Amy’s eyes didn’t open and she didn’t eat that toast. The toast still sat collecting dust and bacteria on the kitchen countertop but Amy never got to eat it. Because Amy is sleeping. Amy is sleeping and doesn’t know that anything is wrong. While Amy sleeps, planes are landing and taking off, cars are stopping and starting. People are laughing, people are crying. And Amy is sleeping. We wish that the world knew, we wish that they would send experts and government officials to fix what should be a global crisis. Because Amy is sleeping and Amy is our world. While Amy sleeps, Clarissa in the other building welcomes her two newborn babies into the world, twins. Her mother, father, sisters and brother all wait for her in the lounge area outside, the first grandchildren of the family. What are the names? No one really cares because grandma and grandpa are ranting about how much they look like Clarissa. Clarissa cries as she holds her babies and they all hug each other. And Amy is sleeping. Just down the hall Sean gets a call on his shift. He wouldn’t normally answer but today was low maintenance and he knew he wanted to talk to her. His girlfriend halfway across the world is so excited to hear his voice, to tell him all of the things she is doing, seeing, tasting and learning. He tells her that he has something planned for her when she gets home and the ring feels heavier in his pocket. They talk in whispers for hours trying not to get Sean caught for taking personal calls. But Amy still sleeps. Like a stop motion film. Like a pause button. Like a patch of white on the artist’s canvas. This afternoon there will be no experts or government officials coming, the world will not grieve. Clarissa will come and see her babies' godmother one more time. Before Sean makes the final call. We can throw out her toast, and let planes fly, and cars go, and people just be, and the world keep spinning. And we can let Amy go. At peace, because we know Amy is sleeping.