Author: Claire Robertson
Those four great comets pull white scars through the sky. Fans of fire expand over our heads, and you still can’t bear to look at me despite how I ask you to. I want the last thing I see to be something familiar.
The half-eaten chocolate cake between us will have to be enough.
I had thought these last dozen minutes would be drawn out in silence, to make them last, until you speak.
“So what comes next?”
I can’t answer you. I still crave the quiet, but you’ve already broken that… this. I can’t fix it. Still, I tried.
Heartbreaking.
Amazing first line.
The title makes me think of the Doomsday Clock by the folks who produce the bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, and the four great comets are nuclear missiles.
Great job in just 100 words.
Kind of seems like they should be able to put aside their dumb little differences in the face of such momentous events. Oh well, goodbye to them.