I can’t believe it’s gone. I look into the sky, expecting to see it come over the horizon any second, as beautiful and perfect as ever. It doesn’t. There’s nothing left.

They came from outside. Not from space, not from the Earth, but from a direction you can’t point to. They came, they saw, they destroyed. First people, then cities, then nature.

Some of us fought. Some even won. A few of us ran. And we were the ones who lived.

We think they’re gone now. Not because we know who they were, where they came from or why they did it. No. We think they’re gone because they destroyed one last thing.
Our hope.

No one’s quite sure what to do with themselves anymore. I’ve heard talk of going outside, naked. — No. That won’t solve anything. But I look out the window and realize I’ll never go home again. I don’t know what to do.

I look up into the empty sky, at the dull, lifeless stars, and I know that things will never be the same again.

The Earth is gone.