We sat on the roof to watch the world end.

You put your cold arm around me and leaned heavily against my shoulder, head lolling and eyes half closed. Your jawbone bumped against my shoulder as you chewed busily at your tongue. I caught you smile out of the corner of my eye when a dribble of blood appeared, and with a quick look at me to see if I had noticed, you gently wiped it away with the sleeve of your flannel.

I pretended I hadn’t seen.

A bird fell from the sky, it’s body awkwardly buffeted by the wind through its twisted feathers. With a loud smack it hit the chimney, knocking bricks loose. The bird’s head dangled at an unnatural angle and smiled at me. I think I smiled back. I don’t really remember.

A piece of sky fell and caught the edge of the world on fire.

You shifted slightly, amused as smoke began to drift upwards from the blazing horizon. Sliding forward intently, eyes never leaving the flames, you crept to the edge of the roof and dangled your feet over the edge. I joined you, holding your calloused hand and listening to your ragged breathing. “The world is going to end in four minutes,” you reminded me. “I know,” I replied.

A darkness was crawling towards us.

“I have a sort of funny feeling,” I remarked, watching the black envelop everything in it’s path. “Like sadness, maybe.”

You said nothing. Then—“Three minutes.”

“Don’t you feel sad at all?”

“One minute.”

The black began to flow across the grass.

“Do you feel ANYTHING?”

Your face burst into an innocent smile, and you turned and took both my hands in yours.

                “The world is ending…

                                                but the cherry trees are in bloom.”