Morning Rituals

He busied himself with the rituals of the morning, cup of tea, checking email, picking out a tie to wear, toast for breakfast, anything that spoke of normalcy, that told him everything was the way it should be, decent and in order. But outside, that was a different matter. Outside his apartment he could see them, hordes of the undead creating a pyramid of body parts towering into the sky, an attempt to reach the stars. Clouds boiled in response to the alien spacecraft hovering above the city casting down meteors to smite them. And lava. The volcano on the horizon continued to spew the ash and strange gasses that affected anyone caught in the open, transforming them into the poor sick wretches building the pyramid. If only he hadn’t acted so spontaneously the day before, when he saw her on a bus, and worked up the courage to strike up a conversation. Had it been totally random? Looking back, he knew it had been a test, one he had failed, one which ended up creating the end of the world. If only he’d stuck with his rituals, none of this would have happened. Too late now, pretending nothing was different, and even the rituals he clung to did little to lift the burden from his heart.

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