[ WP ] It 's the end of the world , and I feel fine .

Daniel Wright slapped the Snooze button on the alarm clock as the radio advertisement was cut off by a breaking news item. His face remained buried in his pillow while his right arm reached for an empty half of the bed. Amber left six months prior, but his tired body hadn ’ t yet let that fact sink in. His eyelids slowly lifted to soak in the harsh red LCD staring back at him, judging him. 
 
 “ Fine, ” he conceded, flicking the alarm off completely while his legs reached for the carpet below. 
 
 Light was attempting to intrude through a crack in the curtains. It seemed a little early for the sun, especially as autumn had finally arrived. Daniel paid no mind as he pulled the curtains back forcefully. The heat from the bright rays reminded him that he had removed his boxers in the middle of the night. It was too late to do much about it, so he stretched his arms before casually retreating from the perch. 
 
 The TV blasted morning news when resumed from standby. Daniel wasn ’ t fond of morning news programs, but he didn ’ t find it troublesome enough to change the channel after the night game aired. 
 
 “ …they ’ re calling it the end- “ 
 
 The anchor was reading from an unseen prompt before the DVR played the penultimate episode of *Breaking Bad*. The single-serve coffee maker was already loaded with water. Daniel opened the cabinet to find a pod. He had finished the box of a disappointing house blend the previous morning. The next box to open was branded after a famous coffee-flavored liqueur. With a shrug, he loaded the pod and hit the button. The sweetness imparted by the alcohol flavoring blended with the bitter coffee for a surprisingly refreshing cup to enjoy alongside the show, which, again, was amazing. 
 
 Daniel didn ’ t bother to pack a lunch as the fourth Monday meant the cafeteria at the office would serve up meatloaf, one of the only things that kitchen could make properly. He slung his backpack over his left shoulder and made his way to the parking lot. Mrs. Rosen, the woman from 2-10, looked flustered when she saw him in the parking lot of the complex. Her eyes lowered towards his groin as her cheeks assumed a fiery tone. Daniel smiled weakly before hastening his trek. 
 
 “ Reactions now from our reporter in the field… ” 
 
 Daniel assumed that his radio reset itself again. The classic rock station frequency was still displayed in on the dash, but the news was not part of the morning programming. He tried his two backup stations. One was also spouting news while the other was just static. The CD player didn ’ t let him down. He sang along with Bon Jovi as he sped along. 
 
 Traffic was unusually busy as he made his way towards the city. The local Safeway appeared to be attracting nearly every car on the streets. Daniel had seen something like that before when they mistyped their fuel price and said they ’ d honor the 40-cent gallons for the rest of the day. He took a sip of his piping-hot flavored coffee and chuckled at the thought that whoever set the prices should have done the same. 
 
 As he cleared the market, the cars, at least in his direction, were scarce. Despite the delay, he made it to the parking garage in near-record time. The echo of his car alarm arming hinted at the desolation. The Steelers played last night, so it wasn ’ t *that* odd to see a number of folks show up late the next day. Daniel merely shrugged and took the elevator to the fifth floor. 
 
 The secretaries were absent. They didn ’ t typically care for football, so their tardiness was harder to dismiss. Daniel was a morning person, but he certainly wasn ’ t the first to arrive each morning. The empty cubicles spoke to the contrary. The quiet office gave him a peaceful environment in which to check through the weekend ’ s worth of missed emails. While he waited for Outlook to load and catch up, he pulled a CD out of his backpack. It settled into the DVD-ROM tray and popped up the PC ’ s music player while Daniel got his headphones settled around his ears. 
 
 The final sips of from his coffee mug came just after the last of the replies landed in his outbox. He paused the music, set his headphones down on the desk, and snatched his mug for a coffee run. The break room coffee machine had one full pot, but the mold indicated that it was from the previous week. He dumped it out and pulled a fresh carafe from one of the cabinets. While that brewed, he eyed the assortment of $ 1.50 pastries in the vending machine. As he contemplated making a bad decision, a desk chair rolled past the break room door. 
 
 Daniel only caught a glimpse, an indistinguishable blur. He poked his out of the door to see Michelle, one of their former interns now a full time hire, pushing the wheeled chair around the office. 
 
 “ Um, ” he started, aiming to get her attention. “ If someone sees you… ” 
 
 She spun in place and giggled. 
 
 “ Who ’ s gon na see me? ” she asked, holding her arms out to highlight the empty building. “ Everyone ’ s probably still at home or buying supplies. Looks like we ’ re the only ones stupid enough to spend our final moments in this hellhole. ” 
 
 “ Supplies? ” Daniel asked. “ What do you mean ‘ final moments? ’ ” 
 
 “ Someone doesn ’ t read the news, ” replied Michelle turning her attention to the ceiling spinning around above her. 
 
 Daniel bolted over to his desk and pulled up a web browser. He didn ’ t usually use the internet at work as it was frowned upon, but he had to know. As he read through headline after headline, Michelle had wheeled her boss ’ s chair outside of his cube. 
 
 “ You can see it, too. ” 
 
 She pulled her seat towards the window. Daniel followed suit. The white light that found its way into his bedroom had grown more intense on the floor of the office. Daniel traced the light back to its source, what looked like a giant moon hanging in the sky, growing larger each moment. 
 
 “ Not too much longer, now, ” Michelle noted. She looked more excited than scared. 
 
 Daniel rolled himself back to his computer. He pulled open his email and clicked on Compose. He filled in the email addresses for his parents and Amber. The subject he skipped entirely. The cursor blinked in the main body, the software ’ s tapping foot anxiously awaiting activity. But the words wouldn ’ t come. Daniel couldn ’ t think of anything to say. He didn ’ t even think they ’ d read it if he had sent something. 
 
 He closed Outlook and Firefox. The music controls sat front and center. He reached for his headphones. Instead of grabbing them, he reached beneath his desk and pulled the connector from the tower. When he clicked Play, his music played through the pathetic integrated speaker. He hummed along. 
 
 “ Who is that? ” Michelle asked over Daniel ’ s shoulder. 
 
 “ Janus Trio. They opened for Ra and Breaking Benjamin a couple of years ago. ” 
 
 “ No way. I *love* Breaking Benjamin. ” 
 
 “ I think I have a CD of them somewhere… ” Daniel said, reaching into his backpack. 
 
 “ No, ” Michelle interrupted. “ I like this band, too. ” 
 
 She smiled and Daniel returned one in kind. 
 
 “ Can you turn it up? ” she requested. 
 
 Daniel maxed out the speakers, which was enough to at least fill the room with a tinny accompaniment. Michelle grabbed his hand and pulled them both back to the window. She stared up at her impending doom. Daniel focused his attention on her hand clasping his, then at her smiling face. Her head was bobbing to the music. Daniel reaffirmed his grip on her hand and he, too, looked up to stare at the massive rock. 
 
 A smile overtook his face. It had been a pretty good morning.
