They let out a warning to tell us that we only had 24 hours left. It was an alert that startled many in the early morning, but not for those who worked or were lost in the void of 3 am, or the demons who only grew stronger at this hour. Some people called their mom, dad, best friend, brother, sister, whoever, just to tell them goodbye and that they love them. Many gathered at the church and held hands with strangers and prayed through tears, hoping for a miracle. The streets were filled with wails and crimes, it seemed something about the world ending encouraged the urge to be reckless and crazy, for in the end why did it matter? After all, it would be over in a few hours.

Others, like my dear friend Toby Taylor, took it as an opportunity to confess all his love to Mia Carr, his coworker and crush. She excepted and they stayed in each other embrace for the rest of the day. I'm sure plenty of others, did the same. 

On the other hand, there were cases of people like my landlord, Mr. James, who’d rather die by his own hand then by any other cause. I had watched him jump from the top of the building as he free-fell to his death, his wife screamed at her god, and all other gods. Why would any divine being cause all this pain in a single day? In a single moment?

As the night fell and there were only two hours remaining for the end, my friends and I stole every bit of liquor we could find from the deserted stores. We all crammed into one small apartment and drank every drop of alcohol. We blasted old music stemming from Jazz to 80’s hip hop, and we danced like animals in love. Unlike the other people of the city, we didn’t count down the final hours or minutes, to us, time had lost all meaning; there was only now, and there will only be now. I will say that that night was the most freeing of all nights, and even though I was to die, I felt alive. However, When the music and poison became too much, I stumbled down the stairs to the ground floor. That’s where I saw you sitting by the apartment's big glass door.

I didn’t acknowledge the sloppy hair or the bags under your eyes, no, what I noticed was that you were reading a book. I had no idea what kind of book, but it seemed to make you happy; you smiled at the pages. In a slurred voice I had asked you what you were reading, but you claimed you weren’t reading, but instead just feeling nostalgic. We talked for a few minutes simply exchanging small words. You gave me water to help me sober up, it didn't entirly work, but it helped enough so I could remeber your face. 

I never asked you for your name and you never asked for Mine, but thank you, stranger. The world is cruel and this end-of-the-world event is proof, but for a minute, you made it seem ok.You talked about your sister, and ho she gave you that book long ago, during your spring days. I shared with you stories of my time working fast food and complained about customers. We laughed at the small anecdotes we shared. Your pressence helped me in more ways then one, As if discussing books at 2 am is the kindest thing to do for a person.

The rest of the world counted down the final moments as if it was New Year’s Eve and the ball would be dropping soon and it would be a new year, a new beginning. I looked at you in those final moments and I saw the religious pray, Mia Carr and Toby Taylor sharing a first and final kiss, and Mr James’s wife crying on the bathroom floor, and I wonder, what had you felt that day? Did you cry, or kiss someone, or even get angry at whatever god is above us? Who did you call to tell them that you loved them? I would never know, for I never asked. Your secrets and pain died with you, but your book, sister, and smile will live on with me.

I could hear the loud chanting from above the ceiling in the apartment, on any other day, I would’ve believed it was New Years.

3...

2...

1...

Fireworks.

A giant light blinded me, and I felt a heat incomparable to any sunburn I’ve ever had. I wish I knew your name, I thought it wouldn’t matter, but it does, and now I have only a small conversation I had with you that is keeping me attached to all of this. I survived, but at what cost? I’ll probably lay here for another hour and I’ll most likely be gone by then. It all hurts, so much. My skin is pealing off and I can hardly breath beneath the remains of the old apartment building. I can feel glass shards piercng my skin and in my mouth. I think about your last words that make me want to hang on for a little while longer; my last and only connection to life.

“I don’t want to die.”

And to be completely honest, neither do I.