7 Days to the End of the World

DAY 1

The alarm clock blares up its warning: wake up wake up wake up…

I oblige.

As usual, after opening my eyes, I recite my mantra: “Today is the first day of the rest of my life.”

It takes me a few seconds to realize how ridiculous this is. I chuckle a bit. “You idiot.”

Don’t even ask me how I know. But one thing is for sure: the world will end in 7 days.

The coffeemaker starts dripping. Bless whoever invented the automatic coffeemaker.

Or not. They’ll be gone soon too.

I look out the window. Sure enough, people keep coming and going. Off to their jobs, school, the gym…they are idiots too.

Then it hits me: this day was always set to come. In fact, the end, THIS end, has perpetually been the only certain thing in life. Tough luck: we get to be the ones to enjoy it.

Aren’t we a bunch of fortunate bastards?

DAY 2

I didn’t bother setting up the alarm clock, nor the coffeemaker. I quit my job yesterday, so I didn’t really see the point.

You should have seen the look on my boss’s face.

“Are you sure? I’m pretty certain the next promotion will be for you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

He shook his head.

“You will regret it in the future.”

I swear I tried to contain myself, but I just couldn’t: I burst out laughing. I was still laughing when I cleaned up my desk, and as I walked out of the office, all of my former coworkers staring at me. As I was driving my car out of the parking lot, I was near tears.

Regret. In the future…

I almost went back and told him.

But he is a good man. Quite decent. He doesn’t deserve to know.

DAY 3

Actually, since I didn’t even go to bed, this is a spin-off of day 2.

After getting out of the office, I parked my car outside my apartment building and started walking.

I walked all around the block, then found myself near a school.

The little kids were running around the yard.

Some of them were using the swings. Others were running in circles.

On the other side, a bunch of children was fighting over a funny looking rock.

The kids.

I have to admit it: they do have the rest of their lives ahead of them. I’m sure they are going to keep on playing to the end.

I resumed my walk.

Soon, I was in the middle of a residential area.

I looked at the houses, all the funny little things people do to try to make them look pretty.

White paint, yellow paint, blue paint, no paint…

Green grass, colorful flowers, ceramic dwarves, fences…

Still…

I could not stop looking. Everywhere, signs of the people who lived there.

This is their home.

After long hours at work or at school, they come here to feel safe.

To feel loved.

After a couple of hours, people started noticing my presence, so I went away. It was near sunrise when I got back home. I stood in front of my window until sunshine hit me straight in the face.

“This is day 3”.

I fell on my knees and wept.

Why do I deserve to know?

DAY 4

I decide to pretend life is normal again.

I set up the alarm clock and the coffeemaker at the usual time.

I even have breakfast.

Then I write emails to nearly every person I have ever known. I set them up to be sent on day 6, late at night.

Some emails are a single sentence. Something along the lines of “I always thought you were a kind soul.” Others are more like, “I always thought you were a wicked little filthy bitch.” Those make me snicker a bit.

I also write to my parents. I know, I should have gone seen them. But Mom has always been able to see right through me, she would get the truth right out of me. I will call them the day before, though. I’m still thinking of a good excuse.

Then I do what I have purposely been avoiding all of these days.

I think of him. Just for a second. But I don’t write him an email.

DAY 5

Went grocery shopping. I buy half the usual stuff. Not much point on stuffing the fridge.

I realize I’m becoming increasingly aware of people’s faces. I stare at them until they get uncomfortable and ask, “Can I help you?”

I smile at them and say: “You can’t.”

They can’t.

Then I wonder: “What are they thinking? Do they know?”

They don’t.

I get some chicken and veggies. And chocolate. And ice cream. I’m kind of thinking I should have gotten more.

I look at my kitchen table now, empty ice cream containers, and wrinkled up chocolate bar wrappings all over it.

This thing in my chest, right now…is it happiness?

It is.

The ads were right, people: happiness does taste like chocolate.

Damn!

DAY 6

Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.

I go looking for him.

I had promised myself that I wasn’t going to…but I had to, didn’t I?

It is already 10 AM, so I know he will already be walking to work.

I stay at a safe distance.

There he is.

No matter what happens, no matter how it all ends, he will always have those damn headphones on and a stupid smile on his face. He’s probably listening to a History podcast or something.

I follow him all the way to his cafeteria.

He stops to open the door and looks at his reflection on the door. That’s when he sees me.

He freezes for a moment. He lifts his hand and waves at me.

I wave back. I dare a smile.

He looks down and goes inside.

It takes me several minutes to realize I am still staring at the door. I am still smiling.

He is still gone.

It’s ok. We will all be gone soon.

I take a step forward. Then I stop.

I have to admit it: he doesn’t deserve to know.

I go back and clean the entire apartment, up and down. I don’t stop until every surface is sparkling clean. By the time I am finished, it is already 5 PM.

I go to the first drawer on my desk. I pull out the letter he left on the bed the day he moved in.

“I will love you until the end of the world.”

Liar.

When he left, there was no letter. He just sent a text message, “I saw you go into that motel with Jim.” I didn’t text back. I’m pretty sure he wasn’t expecting a reply, nor did I have one.

7 PM.

I call home.

Dad picks up on the third ring.

“Honey, that you?”

“Yeah, I love you, Dad. It’s Mom there?”

She is.

I decide to ask her about how to remove a water stain on my coffee table. She gives me all of the instructions. Then we stay silent.

We say goodbye. As usual, she tells me she loves me. Unusually, I tell her I love her.

We hang up.

I stand there, the phone still on my hand.

Then I take a shower and go to bed.

I stay there, eyes open wide.

.

My thoughts go to the kids on that schoolyard. Bet this morning, they kept on arguing about that damn rock. They must have passed it from hand to hand, looking at it from all the possible angles. Touching its surface. They must have come up with different theories as to why the rock has that peculiar shape. They probably agreed they would keep on talking about it tomorrow.

Kids always manage to count on tomorrow.

Good for them.

DAY 7

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Gabriela Rosales shares her life with a husband, a son, and 9 dogs. She currently works as a high-school teacher in a Mexican border town by night, and types Medium articles and screenplays by day. Yeap, in that order.