It's a short short. Humanity destroyed by a disease (virus?) that causes temporary paralysis. Written from pov of last man about to marry last woman who is devout (Christian?) and very proper. Man suffers paralysis in the men's room of a restaurant and humanity is doomed because she will not dare go in to rescue him.
It's a short short.
Four and a half pages in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, Winter-Spring 1950, available at the Internet Archive.
Ten months after the last plane passed over, Rolf Smith knew beyond doubt that only one other human being had survived. Her name was Louise Oliver, and he was sitting opposite her in a department store cafe in Salt Lake City. They were eating canned Vienna sausages and drinking coffee.
by a disease (virus?) that causes temporary paralysis.
Shuddering, he thought of the second stage of the disease—the helpless rigidity, striking without warning. He'd had one such attack already, and Louise had helped him out of it. Without her, he would have stayed like that till he died, the hypodermic that would save him within inches of his rigid hand.
Written from pov of last man about to marry last woman who is devout (Christian?) and very proper.
It seemed very awkward to Louise that not one Protestant minister was left alive.
The trouble was, she really meant it. It had taken Smith a long time to believe it, but it was true. She would not sleep in the same hotel with him, either; she expected, and received, the utmost courtesy and decorum. Smith had learned his lesson. He walked on the outside of the rubble-heaped sidewalks; he opened doors for her, when there were still doors; he held her chair; he refrained from swearing. He courted her.
Man suffers paralysis in the men's room of a restaurant and humanity is doomed because she will not dare go in to rescue him.
He found the washroom door and entered. He took a step inside, and froze, balanced by a trick of motion, upright but helpless. Panic struck at his throat as he tried to turn his head and failed; tried to scream, and failed. Behind him, he was aware of a tiny click as the door, cushioned by the hydraulic check, shut forever. It was not locked; but its other side bore the warning: MEN.