Don't They Know, It's The End Of The World.

We lay in bed holding hands, staring at the ceiling fan. The world moved on as we stayed, still, left behind.


We talked about what would happen if the world would end. If the zombies really came. If natural disaster overwhelmed the city, or bombs showered down, if the bad guys really attacked. We devised escape routes out of the city, meet up points, secret code words for when someone held a gun to our heads. We would head upstate, as far away from the city as possible. If it was a natural disaster, the woods. Nature would protect us. We would meet at our favorite Japanese restaurant, Hiroko's Place, six blocks away, and wait there until the other arrived. Broccoli was the word, because neither of us would voluntarily eat it.


We planned our escape with as much detail as we could, filling in all the blanks, on that lazy day, hands held, underneath the subterfuge of bedcovers.


When the day comes, we'll be ready. If we wanted, we could. But we would have to get out of bed first.