Radiant Requiem

I walked out the coffee shop's door when I heard the siren, the air crisp and still. 

The booming, ominous noise echoed in the streets and startled me enough to make my coffee drop to the ground. The hot liquid splashed on my bare legs, but I ignored the pain. I ran inside to see the television switch from music videos to an announcement from the President. "In less than 1 minute, the world as we know it will be destroyed." She didn't say much more; she was being taken by the Secret Service. 

The screen went black with one sentence: "NUCLEAR MISSILES INCOMING." 

The siren's blare became background fodder. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stick up. My mouth was dry, and the image of my cat at home alone made me choke on the air. 

I stood in horror as I realized what these words meant. The coffee shop was eerie as we all looked at one another, unsure what to do. The world as we knew it was compressed to seconds.

The sirens stopped; someone had turned off the television. One of the people in the coffee shop stood up and hugged the person next to them. I looked around and saw that most of the patrons were crying. My fingers went to my cheek, and I found they were also wet. The girl who had given me my coffee for the last five years was pouring it into cups and handing it out.

"What is your name?" I asked her as I grabbed a cup. 

"Sienna," she stated simply, smiling. Sienna didn't seem bothered by the announcement; no trace of remorse or regret etched into her face. She did what she had been doing without regard to the confusion and truth around her. 

Some other patrons were putting the chairs together, and we all sat beside each other. I heard someone call their wife and another call their daughter. I looked at the coffee in my hand and took a sip, whispering "Sienna" to myself. 

I looked out the windows and saw the American flag waving in the wind, the colors bold. I knew enough about nuclear war to know that, at this point, nothing would survive. While we revered the past and held on to the beliefs that were passed down, these missiles would erase everything and anything we had created. Everything we are or were to become would be considered null. Our lives are absolutely meaningless in the face of such destruction. 

The missile fell from the sky and hit the building in front of us as the man next to me took hold of my hand. The last thing I would taste was coffee; the last thing I would see would be that burning white light. The last person I would talk to would be Sienna, and this man holding my hand was the last person I would touch. The world was reduced to nothing in a matter of seconds.