It’s the end.


At some point tonight there will be a cataclysmic event.

The only proper response is to get shit faced. Egregiously intoxicated. I can’t handle it. The pressure. I’m the only one who knows, and I know, but it doesn’t even matter. There’s nothing I can do, no one I can warn. My conviction doesn’t mean a thing. Would you even believe me?

Would you?

Once the liquor has me properly sedated, I’ll lay down on the floor, get right at ground level. If I’m still for long enough Kitty will perch on my chest, her long whiskers tickling my cheek. She’ll watch over me, as she often does, with that deep feline patience.

We’ll wait it out together, here on the floor. Kitty will comfort me because I need it. That’s what good animals do. She peers down into my face, her sharp claws digging into my breastbone.

My sweet Kitty Girl.

There are crumbs everywhere. I should’ve vacuumed, but what’s the point? Dishes in the sink, an unmade bed. I haven’t done laundry in weeks. Why should I? Precious last moments wasted.

My phone buzzes. I threw it across the room an hour ago, frustrated by its temptations. Now it’s ringing and I need to know who’s calling. I scramble for it, throwing Kitty off my chest in desperation.

Please let it be her. Please.

I crawl across my small living room, crumbs and dirt digging into my knees.

There she is, bright on the screen, her name and smiling picture. Sarah. At least fate has afforded me this small kindness.

I want to tell her goodbye, but I don’t want to alarm her. I texted her several hours ago. Nothing nefarious, no confessions of love, something simple, something I could live with. Appropriate last words.

Goodnight, friend!

Now she’s calling. Of course she’s calling. It’s what I wanted after all. I answer, I can’t not, to hear her voice one more time … It’s worth the heartache. It has to be.

“Casssyyyy,” she drawls out my name in a sweet singsong voice that she uses when she wants something. “I knew you’d still be up.”

“Hey,” I say sheepishly. I can hear it in her inflection, I’m about to be roped into something.

“We’re going out. Drinks. Shenanigans,” she pauses, her voice tantalizingly close to my ear. “You should come, I haven’t seen you in forever.” There’s a moment of silence. For all my wanting, I still can’t find the words. She thinks I’m disinterested. “We’re celebrating. It’ll be fun.”

“We?”

She hesitates, “Me and Jeremy.”

“Jeremy,” I say heavily.

“I know. I’m sorry,” I can hear the disappointment in her voice. “Please? He’s got some big promotion or something, and he wants to go out.”

“Okay, then go out,” I regret the words the moment they escape my mouth. Vicious and petty. I’m so on edge about things, so nervous. I don’t want death to be like this. But I also don’t want to spend my last hours as a third wheel. How pathetic. Jeremy won’t want me there anyway.

“Please Cassy,” she’s not begging. It’s not the high-pitched girly squeal she likes to make. The valley girl inflection that she has to be doing on purpose. It’s her real voice, her normal voice. “I miss you,” she says, unembarrassed, honest in a way I don’t think I can ever be.





Until the fire we partied a lot. Every night a bottle of liquor, dancing, screaming, laughing. Bitter cold walks home. Back-alley vomit. Strangers in both our beds, until she found Jeremy. Then just strangers in my bed. A fluffy haired boy with big blue eyes. Some tennis protégé who was entirely out of my league and a terrible kisser. A tattooed musician and all of his emotional baggage. Life with the candle lit at both ends. We were having a good time.

I’ve always known the end was coming, but before the fire I was managing just fine. Adult, enough. Satisfied, enough. Habituated to it at least. Death is always a part of life. Mine is just sooner than I’d like, more cataclysmic. You’d think a fire wouldn’t upset me that much, but afterwards I couldn’t stop thinking about finality. My final breakfast. Final yawn, fart, headache. My last tears. Everything and its ending.

Stupid fire. Terrible fire. A huge flaming monstrosity. I could smell it before I saw it, smoky and soft, like a bonfire, almost pleasant. Then hot tar, acidic clouds of ash that melted your insides. I was coughing when I came around the corner. Her entire apartment complex was consumed in flames.

It hurt to look at, made my eyes burn. There were people running, children crying. Ash floating gently through the hot air. A glowing ember burnt a hole in my favorite t-shirt.

It was a terrible fire. The kind of thing they build memorials for.

I thought she was dead.

There were people pleading with the firefighters. A man ran for the flaming doors, only to be tackled to the ground. Next to me a woman covered in soot cradled a terrified chihuahua. It’s tiny red tongue hanging from its mouth, just panting and panting. Beady little eyes reflecting the firelight.

I couldn’t find her in the crowd. It hurt. My eyes, my chest, my throat. People aimlessly bumping into me. She wouldn’t answer her phone. I shouted her name, but I wasn’t the only one calling out for someone. Police arrived, more fire trucks. The noise was tremendous. The heat of the fire pushed the crowd back, emergency workers pushed us back even further.

Then the building collapsed, bucking inwards in a flaming explosion. The city was fully awake now, lights, sirens, huge billowing flames turning the night sky a flickering cloudy orange.

It felt like an eternity, wandering aimlessly through the crowd. Searching faces. Jealously watching others reunited with their loved ones. The crying. The aimless looks of trauma. Getting hopeful at the back of a blond head in the distance only to be disappointed up close.

I did find her. Eventually. Several blocks from the burning remains. Still in her pajamas, covered in soot, an arm wrapped in white gauze. She was sitting on the curb, chatting away with the fireman who had carried her from the building. Well, really, she’d run down fifteen flights of stairs and burst into the lobby, burnt, unable to breathe, and beautifully alive, and he’d picked her up and carried her from there. She was that kind of beautiful, men always wanted to save her.

She was up with her arms around me before I could fully process it. All that panic, and there she was, relatively unharmed. Certainly alive. Holding me tight. Tight enough that I knew she was scared. I could feel her fluttering heartbeat next to my own. She smelled entirely of smoke, hot and burnt and bad. It only made me hold her tighter.

“It’s okay,” she told me. Like I was the one who had lost everything. “Everything is okay, everybody’s okay.”

Technically untrue, but good enough for me.





It was harder for me after the fire. I was terrified for and of her. How could I look at her after that? Knowing that she survived just to die later.

And the burn. I was obsessed with the burn. It was bad, from her wrist to inner elbow. An ugly uneven scar. Her inner arm a mountain range of off-colored flesh. They did skin grafts, but it just made the distortion more obvious. I can look at it for hours, get lost in the curved edges of scar tissue and healthy flesh. I have to remind myself not to stare. There’s a pearlescent sheen in the worst parts, like she’s glowing from the inside.

Sometimes the hand on that same arm goes numb. The burn deep enough to cause permanent nerve damage. She’ll stretch out her stiff fingers, rolling her wrist back and forth. You can tell it’s painful. Flapping her hand in the air, hoping the forceful motion might will her fingers back to life.





We both know I’m going. Jeremy or not, who wants to be alone and lovesick at the end of the world?

I scratch Kitty behind her ears, pile up slices of cold cut turkey on a plate, pour a whole gallon of milk into a mixing bowl, and scatter catnip throughout the apartment. She purrs and rubs against my leg.

“Good Kitty. My good baby.” I feel like crying.

Instead, I put on makeup, dress in something tight, short, and provocative, and greedily finish a bottle of wine. I have to fix my eyeliner twice because my eyes keep brimming over.

It would be easier to stay here. I could dissolve in silence, lose my mind in privacy. Scream and cry and mourn. Spend my last hours miserable and alone. But I’ve never been able to say no to her, and why would I start setting boundaries now?

Before I leave, I open all the windows. Let the night air blow through my small apartment. Kitty has milk dripping from her whiskers. She breaks my heart with her deep calm cat eyes.

I leave anyway.





Sarah has made it difficult for me to escape. Cornering me in the back of the bar the moment I arrive. There’s already drinks on the table. She has her legs propped up in Jeremy’s lap, her heels leaving dirty scuff marks on his khakis. “I was starting to think you bailed,” she says, peering out at me over the rim of a wine glass.

“I’m here,” I say, shrugging my shoulders.

She just grins.

Jeremy and Sarah are not technically dating. His wife and interchangeable children mean that Sarah is more a flashy side piece than an official girlfriend. He’s also her boss.

I thought she knew better. I know that she does. He’s not bad to look at, in an old man way. I guess. He buys her anything she wants, which she thinks is funny. “If he’s so adamant on wasting all his money on me, I’m not stopping him.”

More than once, I’ve heard her call him a corporate overlord, a spoiled trust fund baby, a business major. Christened him the CEO of adultery. She’s never been secret with her disdain, whispering it in his ear while he swipes his credit card. For every insult she throws at him he returns with a gift. Diamond necklaces, sparkling rings, designer bags. A ruby bracelet that she pawned, not because she needed the money, she just wanted him to know how little it mattered. They’re locked in some weird material battle. She throws one gift away and he comes back with ten more. It’s hard to break that kind of cycle. Easy to mistake that kind of thing for love.

Jeremy is busy talking. He’s very proud of himself. He’s acquisitioned another factory, another plot of land or something. It’s a trade deal that will make his company several million dollars in profit. I want to laugh about it. Sarah’s right, his money doesn’t mean anything, or it won’t soon enough.

“There’s lots of farmland in the area. Which would be great for construction, but the locals are already upset, so we’re laying low for a bit. In a few years, we’ll swoop in and buy out the rest of it,” he says, sipping from a tumbler of whisky and smiling his on-brand business smile.

Sarah nods solemnly, but there’s a menace in her eyes. “Yeah, fuck those locals,” she says coyly, digging one of her heels into his thigh. “Jeremy is going to buy the whole world and all the people in it.”

He frowns and pushes her legs out of his lap. “Only if I’m lucky.”

Sarah snorts, most unladylike. I grin stupidly at her. I love it when she’s like this, playful, just a little mean. It makes my palms sweat, my heart race. I’m happy this is how she will be tonight. Full of mischievous energy.

We finish the drinks on the table, and Sarah demands more. Jeremy obligingly showers us in alcohol. Tequila shots. Something florescent blue that changes the color of our tongues. Sarah shouts with glee as he pops a champagne bottle. Burning liquor offers its apologies to the back of my throat.





Sarah wants to go dancing, but I’m not drunk enough for that. “Come on,” she whines, tugging at my hands.

“In a minute,” I tell her.

She frowns, suspicious, “Are you having a good time?”

“Of course,” I lie.

“It’s just you haven’t been out in forever, and I thought maybe something was wrong.”

“Nothing wrong,” I lie again. “Just need another drink.”

She studies my face, searching for something. I try to look happy, calm. “Okay …” she says.

“You guys go,” I can’t stand her looking, she’s close enough that her perfume tickles the back of my nose. Vanilla, then something dark and smokey. “I’ll be right behind you,” I say, my mouth suddenly dry.

She doesn’t look convinced, but she shrugs and leans forward to give me a quick hug. A tight squeeze of the shoulders. “I’m glad you’re here Cassy. I’ve missed you,” she says right into my ear.

Then she’s gone, disappearing into the crowd, dragging Jeremy behind her.

I’m trying not to think about the things I’ll miss. Never again a fresh apple, sweet water dribbling down my chin. No more bird calls, or thunderstorms. No more peering over wine glasses, or playful flirtation. All the things that won’t exist tomorrow. What’s left, if anything is left, won’t be for Sarah and me.

I wobble towards the bar, compete with a mass of strangers for the bartender’s attention. Manage to order and pay for a drink. The bartender gives me back the wrong change, and I nearly point it out to him but then remember that money won’t matter in a few hours. My drink is strong. Worth the extra cash. I gulp it down and fight my way back for another. I tip him a twenty.

I’m feeling better now, certainly fuzzier around the edges. Just the perfect amount of fucked up. This is right. The way it should be.

I’ll miss Kitty, and sunsets, breakfast in bed. But I would miss Sarah more. I miss her even when she’s right in front of me. I’ve been missing her my whole life.

I’m also drunk and deep into infatuation. Maybe I’d feel different about it in the morning. If there was a morning. I wish my last meal wasn’t liquor. No more burnt bacon. No more itchy mosquito bites.

I hover on the edge of the dance floor, searching the bodies for a shape I recognize.

No more Sarah.

But not yet. There she is, rising out of a mass of people. Beautiful Sarah with her golden hair, or something like that. Jeremy emerges behind her, his bulky frame ruining her silhouette. His hands on her hips, their movement slow and stumbling. Jeremy won’t let go of her waist as they waddle through the crowd.

No more Jeremy. No more Cassy. No more love triangles.

Won’t that be a relief.

Sarah sees me and waves eagerly. “God it’s hot,” she’s sweating, droplets of saltwater sliding down her collarbone. I’d lick them from her if she’d let me.

Jeremy looks queasy. I wonder if it’s the heat, all the movement. He’s had the least to drink between the three of us, but he can’t hold his liquor the way Sarah and I can. He certainly looks uncomfortable. A tired old man. It’d be funny to tease him about it. Make it clear that he’s an unfit match for his young mistress. I have a laundry list of all the cruel things I could say. All he really wants to do is take Sarah somewhere quiet, mess around with her youth and go back to his family for the night.

He checks his watch, his fancy gilded watch. “It’s getting late.”

Sarah ignores him and grabs my hand. Her skin is warm, her scar flashes on her wrist like jewelry. “I have to pee,” she announces, pulling me toward the bathroom, leaving Jeremy behind at the bar.

I nearly puke in one of the stalls. It takes several deliberate determined breaths to soothe the rolling nausea in my stomach. I wobble to the sink and splash my face with cold water. I pinch myself and lean against the countertop, hoping the swaying stops soon.

Sarah kicks her way out of the adjacent stall. “It’s fucking gross in here.”

While she’s washing her hands, I stare at her reflection in the mirror, mesmerized by the way her necklace dangles from her throat. It takes me a moment to realize she’s talking, complaining about Jeremy. Apparently, he wants to take their relationship to the next level. Leave it to fucking Jeremy to steal my thunder. It’s probably the real reason I’m here, a buffer, she hates needy men. “I thought he was joking, honestly,” she tells me, scrunching up her face, dropping her voice a few octaves to mimic him. “I’m serious Sarah. I love you.”

She shakes her head and turns off the sink. “Can you believe him? He wants to run away. Leave it all behind. You and me baby. Like it’s some kind of romance,” she looks disgusted. “He thinks I’m stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” I tell her reflection automatically.

She scoffs, but gives me a soft smile. “There’s nothing wrong with the idea. In theory I mean,” she leans over the sink, inspecting her eyeliner in the mirror. “Escapism at its finest. For such a businessman you’d think he’d be more realistic about things.”

I’ll miss the ocean. How it feels when a wave breaks and knocks you off balance.

“He’s not going to leave his family. Ever. He knows it too, he’s just drunk and horny like the rest of us. In the long run we’d make each other miserable.”

She shakes her head in disappointment. She’s looking at me in the mirror, our reflections wavering. She’s waiting for my input.

“Miserable,” I echo pathetically. There are other things I want to be saying, but none of it is appropriate for the moment, and every bit of it would be self-serving. I don’t want to back up one drunken love confession with another.

Of course, technically there won’t be any consequences. I could dump every emotion I’ve ever had on her. Right here. Right now. In an hour or two it won’t matter. Even if she laughs or tells me it’s unfair to burden her with my feelings. We’ll both be dead soon.

It won’t matter.

It doesn’t matter.

“Jesus, Cassy, what’s wrong?” She spins around to face me, but I keep my eyes focused on the mirror. I refuse to make eye contact. Her hair is all messed up in the back. My own image is clouded.

I wipe at my face, trying to hide the evidence of my sorrow. “Yeah, sorry. Just sad drunk.” Sarah nods knowingly, but I see the doubt there.

Then she’s hugging me. A good hug, tight and reassuring. I don’t want it to end. We linger there for a moment, I rest my chin on her shoulder and feel the pace of my troubled heart start to slow. It’s fine. We’re together. It could be so much worse. This will have to be enough. Eventually I feel her pull away and I reluctantly let go. I’ll miss this the most, quiet unburdened moments of affection.

She blots my cheeks with a rough paper towel, wipes the running mascara from my eyes. “It’s been rough, hasn’t it?”

I’m not sure what she’s referring to, but I nod my head anyway and she sighs knowingly.

Would she be any different if she knew the end was coming? Probably not. The fire was threat enough for both of us. She’s already living like she’s dying.





I’ve stopped crying. We’re out of the bathroom. She’s pulling me along behind her. “Come on, come on! I love this song.”

Here we go through the crowd, jostling bodies aside to make space for both of us. She’s dancing. Hands up in the air, not exactly graceful, her hips and shoulders each keeping a different rhythm. It makes me laugh. She does some sort of weird shimmy and grins at me. For a moment I forget who I think I’m supposed to be. I grin back. My body loose from the alcohol moves of its own volition.

Revolving neon lights keep highlighting her in different colors. First she’s purple, then blue, deep green. Red, like she’s on fire. A bright strobe light flashes indiscriminately, offering me only tiny fractions of her. Her scar is glowing. She raises her arms above her head, and it shines out like a beacon.

She’s holding my hands. I spin her around under my arm one way, then the other. We get tangled up together. Her back against my chest. Laughing. She smells hot, like sweat. A dank hormonal smell that makes me want to bury my face in her armpits.

We’re closer now, the crowded dance floor is just an excuse. We must press up against each other. I’m just as close to her as I am to the stranger behind me. Nothing suspicious about it. The music is loud and heavy, the pounding bass shoves the thoughts right out of my head. I feel fuzzy. Disoriented. Good and bad.

I have to make a move. Right? That’s what this whole story has been leading up to. It’d be easy. Like jumping off a building. Really, it’s only one step. All I have to do is fly right over the edge.

I tilt my head so that our faces are closer. See how she doesn’t lean away.

A reason to live.

My thumb traces the outline of her scar as she holds my hand.

She’s glowing. There’s light radiating from inside her.

She has to know my intentions now. She’s a smart girl, can put two and two together. Hasn’t stopped me yet.

I’m a little off target, but it’s not the worst kiss. Closed mouth. Two pairs of lips mashed together. I’m pretty sure for half a moment she’s kissing me back, but then she shifts and pulls away slightly.

I release her immediately. Back away mortified. The shame engulfs me. The apologies rushing out of my mouth. “I’m sorry,” I cringe, move back further. “God, I’m so sorry.”

She’s looking at me funny, of course she is. No, she’s not angry. That’s good. She looks sad. That’s worse. Both of us are swaying, knocked off balance by my actions. She fuzzes up in my vision. I can hardly see her.

I’ll run home. Run back to Kitty and apologize. Cry into the carpet till I die.

She gives me a serious look, not unkind, but disturbingly sober. “Cassy?” she asks.

“Very drunk,” here come the tears, rolling down my cheeks in fat pathetic drops. “I’m so sorry.”

“Okay,” she responds, and I can’t read the emotion in her voice.

There’s nowhere to go. I back up and bump into a stranger. “I need air.”

She steps towards me, filling the space I’m trying to make between us. I know she’s about to say something, but I panic and cut her off. “I’m just going outside,” I keep backing away, practically running from her.

“Cassy,” I can hear her calling me. “Cassy don’t leave!”

I put my shoulders into it, shoving strangers out of the way. Desperate to escape before she says something I can’t unhear. Before she denies me. I can’t breathe. I can’t see. I want to hit myself in the head, scratch out my eyes.

I manage my way outside. A blast of cool night air. An empty street. The music is dampened to a muffled thumping. I lean against the bar’s exterior brick wall. It’s late, the bouncer is on his phone, he looks up briefly but doesn’t say anything.

Why does everything have to feel so real? Why didn’t I just stay home? Kitty is missing me. How could I leave her like that? What have I done?

I tilt my head back, sucking in mouthfuls of cool night air. The light pollution from the city makes it nearly impossible to see the stars clearly. Tonight, however, they are shining. Brighter than I’ve ever seen them, sharp, crisp pinpoints of light.

Suddenly I’m laughing. The sound comes out of my body and through my mouth without my permission. More like a gasp, close to a sob, but it’s laughter. True laughter. Honestly this whole thing is ridiculous. The entire human population is about to be snuffed out and here I am worried about my love life. Acting like a misplaced kiss is the end of the world.

The stars are so bright. Look at them shining. It’s coming. There’s a weird pressure at the bottom of my feet, like my connection to gravity might be faulty.

Have you ever seen a building burn? Like it’s really burning? Past the point where anyone can do anything about it? Ash falling over everything. Glowing embers searing little holes in your favorite t-shirt. Vicious flames eating at the delicate flesh of the inner arm.

I’m terrified of burning.

“Cigarette?”

Jeremy. Sarah isn’t with him. He looks even older under the starlight. I don’t have a habit of smoking but … you know.

He lights my cigarette. It’s a tender moment, his hand cupping the flame while I lean towards him. We straighten up, the rigidity between us comes back quick.

He nudges a pebble with his leather shoes. “You been crying?”

“No.”

He looks off into the distance. “Sarah’s going to leave me,” he says.

“Yep.”

“She told you?”

I shrug. “Just figured. Sooner or later.”

“Ouch,” he takes a long drag off his cigarette. Tilts his head back and blows the smoke out slowly, dramatically. “Damn, look how bright the sky is.”

“Weird, right?”

We’re quiet for a moment. I watch the smoke from my cigarette curl around my fingers. I’m tempted to put it out on my arm, ready my body for the worst of it.

“Maybe I’ll buy her a ring,” he says cautiously, like he wants my advice.

“Poor choice.”

He huffs but doesn’t respond. Now we’re both looking up at the sky. The stars aren’t just bright, they seem bigger. Glowing holes.

“I really do love her.”

“Okay.”

We’re quiet again, I enjoy the silence between us, this communal mourning. His love is different, shallow probably, but good enough. I’m glad he gets to feel it. Here we are sharing heartbreak. You can’t buy that.

A crowd of people spill out of the bar. The sidewalk is flooded with voices. Laughter. The stale smell of beer.

“Holy shit,” someone says. “Look at the sky,” there’s a chorus of delighted gasps.

It’s beautiful, but in an artificial way, like the sky is animated, to real to be real. The stars glint in the darkness.

“There you are!” Sarah shouts, once again appearing out of the crowd like some sort of angel, her hair blown back in the wind.

People are pouring out of adjacent buildings, crowding the street.

I think about booking it before she gets any closer. Straight up run away. Disappear. A last moment of cowardice in a long life of denials. My heart races as she approaches. Luckily some braver part of me refuses to move. I can feel the brick wall behind me, propping me up some, offering cool stability. I promised not to leave. I can face whatever happens. I’ve done the hardest part. My heart is already open.

“Something’s wrong,” Jeremy says next to me. He’s still looking at the sky.

My body feels tight. She steps up onto the sidewalk and flicks me a brief smile, an award-winning grin. She takes the cigarette out of my hand and puts it to her lips, taking a long inward breath. “You smoke now too?”

Jeremy is all business; he puts his hand on Sarah’s shoulder, not possessively, nervously, worried. “We should go,” he says. “Cassy, you can ride with us.”

Sarah is still grinning at me. I feel giddy, on the verge of nervous giggling. I forget, for a moment, what Jeremy is so worried about. But then she looks up, follows the crowd’s collective gaze. Her jawline. Her neck. The gentle slope of her shoulders.

The stars are brighter still, glowing fiercely enough to turn the nighttime to dusk. Everything is cast in strange misshapen shadows. The laughter in the crowd dies out. Everyone’s heads are tilted back like their necks are broken.

“That’s weird,” Sarah says flatly. I feel her hand against mine. I grasp it immediately. Tightly. Making sure she can feel me through the numbness in her fingers.





We’re running. She’s still holding my hand. Jeremy is gone.

It’s so bright. Like dawn. Like the day.

Flashing in our periphery is the only indication that something significant is happening behind us. We can’t hear anything. All the sound is gone, sucked away. We could turn around if we wanted, but then we would miss this last moment. The scar on her arm splits open like a flower, and we burst apart at the seams.