I walked down the road with a hunched back and a wet cigarette in my mouth—the fire had died a while back. My hands were tucked into the pockets of my jacket, and my hair fell over my face, limiting my sight. But I wasn’t really seeing where I was going, anyway.
How would you live if you knew there would be no tomorrow? We were asked this question a couple of years ago—back when I was still a high school brat. I remember my high school years mostly full of laughter and petty pranks. Right till the end, I never took anything seriously—but for some reason, I remembered what I wrote:
I would spend time doing what I love.
What I loved doing was playing soccer with the guys, sliding down the banister while being chased by the disciplinarian, starting silly cults in the gym room. But I had none of those things with me now. So ultimately, I was spending the last day of humanity with a strangely silent heart while walking aimlessly down an empty street. I let out a laugh.
It came out strangled and bitter.
I didn’t want to go back home. The only thing waiting for me was the TV, which I never switched off. Not since the beginning of the end. The TV was full of it. Regular reports of where the Black Sun was—and it was getting closer and closer. There was more than one channel interviewing people with questions like ‘How do you feel knowing you’re spending the last of your days?’ or ‘What do you plan to do on Earth’s last day?’—it was always the same answer. ‘Spending time
