The radio preacher was wrong. When the world's end came to a close, they didn't come for the believers: they came for the ones who'd lead us into the next life.
I always knew you were the half with all the smarts. Me, I won't have the looks, but I'll go out in style.
We saw it coming, not during a sunset, but on a webcam in realtime during our weekly geeking out at solar activity on one screen, and the aurora borealis cam on the other. And our jaws dropped as the chariot of Apollo sprang from the fiery surface, raging tendrils waving out until it whipped and engulfed the SOHO satellite. Only a matter of days until it reached our home, emblazing us in place. We knew we'd have to party until things got too hot.
Love, I found your note when I came back with the booze. They need your memory, the way you can figure things out. You'll be ok in the dark, in the deep, for that little while.
I was going to post this, and I know you'll get the joke. Remember the pub at the corner, how we planned how to remake the world into a better place? Instead I've tucked it in the middle of volume 2 of the OED-- maybe it will survive the heat.
The sun is setting, the northern lights will outshine everything tonight. I'm going up the hill to watch the show.
Make sure our world is better next time round.
World’s End Close is one of the many
side-streets that turn the Royal Mile into
a herringbone of a map in the World Heritage
site of Old Town, Edinburgh, Scotland.
for the Postcard Quest, using an image by Oolong