There is something beautiful about the end of the world.
Something truly marvelous about the crumbling buildings, something extraordinary about the mountains of bones.
Even with all the howls of terror and the crying, watching the fire dance on the horizon is not the worst way to spend my time.
Staring at the flayed corpse twitch painfully in the sky is a good distraction from the sea-beast trudging through the water aimlessly. Last night, I heard it ranting about the current political climate of the New Canadian Republic.
While I'm sitting by your side, I don't care if the sky is a crimson hue, or if they continue to play the same announcement over the radio about thaumatological radiation.
Helping you tie bandages around your leg after another rat swarm tried to gnaw it off, helping you open a can of beans for the fortieth time is better than living alone. Living before He woke up and decided to put his will upon Providence.
I am not sure of what will happen next, but I am happy that I get to spend it with someone I care about.
Talking as the sun sinks into the sea, about how neither of us have a single worry.
Even with the ocean beginning to swallow up the thousands of broken walls and what remains of the old city, the only thing I need is you.
While I open myself for a hug, I take great comfort in feeling your four arms resting upon my back. I look you deep in the eyes,
And I hold you close,
I can only ask one thing.
Am I in heaven?
