text: edit - Narrated by: I can still hear my laundry rumbling. It’s louder than the frantic car horns and the people shouting incomprehensible words outside. The machine runs to complete its duty not knowing that the world now has an imminent expiration date. 2 hours left. And I’m just standing here. Not looking out the window Not looking at my phone screen Just leaving my eyes where it drifts to. Comfortable and not perceiving what it is that the eyes are directed at. It’s a habit of mine, to wonder and think while standing up still, having nothing in motion; including me. My parents live overseas We just finished our phone call. Our last one. I don’t know why, but the thought of nuclear fallout erasing all of us at the same time gives me some kind of paradoxical solace. It’s a bummer that the whole family can’t be together but what is inevitable should not be dwelled upon. It’s what I believe. At least, it’s the best thing for now. I grabbed my car keys from the kitchen counter where I left it last night after a night of blissful ignorance. Who would have known the world was on its course to ruin. Ignoring the bustling of the apartment and its desperate inhabitants who were once my neighbors, I riled up my car and drove in the opposite direction of the metal stampede. Where are they running to? As if safety was guaranteed? Were they risking the last moments of their lives being in a car for the sliver of hope to make it through the first few mushroom clouds? I shook my head. I didn’t want to think about it. I rolled down all my windows and blasted a song I knew. I always thought that blasting music with the windows down was my quiet rebellion. It was a way of timorously telling the world that I was alive and here. While at the same time, knowing it was the threshold of my defiance. I was never one to be loud and confident. I was a vibrant wallflower. Petals of brilliant colors bloomed in my head and my head was the flower pot. Although they barely burgeoned outside of this fence called imagination, I had become a florist and forester. Ten minutes left. I turned the music off. I figured this would be a good time to soak up the last time I’d hear life. Cars were lined up for the first few miles. Now I am totally alone. Just me and my car. They say your life flashes before you right before you die. All I see is the blue sky. No missile to be seen with the naked eye. What a beautiful day it is, it’s a good day to die. I stuck my hand out the window to feel what it is to feel. These hands felt the first oranges I’ve peeled for the first time in my life. The wet veiny yet pleasantly cold feeling accompanied by memory of tang and zest that flooded the mouth. These hands that held her hand for the last time while sitting on the back seat of a car on our way to the airport. These hands that wiped countless tears of others as well as mine. These hands that caressed her fur for the last time before sending her away to doggy heaven. Now these hands brush the wind as if to send it all away. I look up at the sky again. All I see is the blue sky. A missile to be seen with the naked eye.