[ WP ] It ’ s the year 3000 and almost all of the oxygen on Earth is gone . The population has only increased over the years .

*Not good at writing stories, only thesises ( sic? ) and the like, but I decided to take a shot at this. * 
 
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 *Well, * I thought, *this is the end. This is where we go. * I looked over to my right. My wife was crying, waiting. She noticed my head turn, and turned her head right back to me. Her eyes were not only filled with tears, but with agony. Pain. Realization. I clutched her hand firmly, pulled her over to me, and we hugged, as we took in the last moments of love we could spend together. I looked behind my wife's back, and looked towards the citadel's screen. Only five more minutes of oxygen. Five more minutes of love. Five more minutes of feeling. Five. 
 
 People always said that your life flashed before your eyes when you were going to die. I never experienced that. I only saw a few hours back. I only saw panic. Mass crisis. 
 
 `` We are nearly out of oxygen,'' the ambassador read into the loudspeaker, `` We can not live much longer.'' After that, he we heard a gunshot, screams, yelling, all over the loudspeaker. The ambassador was wise. Everyone was going crazy. People were repenting for their sins. People were killing themselves before suffocation could kill them. Madness had ensured, and nothing could stop it. If only we could have preserved our planet, if only we could help relieve this problem sooner. But nobody cared. Our planet became filthier and filthier. People stopped caring about everything. We could have colonized multiple planets by now. We could have produced more oxygen. But nobody cared. 
 
 The only thing keeping us alive was fear. The rush of fear. I felt as if I was riding down a steep rollercoaster, feeling my gut sling itself into my chest. The pure adrenaline that rushed through our veins kept us kicking. But adrenaline was our only reason to live. Once that ran out, we had nothing to do. Nothing to live for. Taking the easy way out was n't hard. But no time to repent, then. 
 
 When I snapped out of my reflection, I was still hugging my wife. I looked at the citadel clock. Fourty-five seconds left. 
 
 `` Ready?'' I asked my wife, shaking in my boots. She stopped hugging me, and nodded with despair, closing her eyes. She pulled her government-assigned self-protection sidearm from her coat, and pressed it against the side of my head. I did the same, slowly, reluctantly. 
 
 `` I love you.'' She said, quietly. 
 
 `` I love you, too.''
