After about an hour alone in his house, Tom decided to go out. It was a nice day.
He rode out his motorcycle, shut the gate, went to a bar he’d frequented during his life time.
As is standard when one lives in a town all their lives, he’d see an old friend. Frankie and he had known each other from diapers. They talked about this and that, and, not unexpected, Frankie mentioned the End of the World.
Tom teared up. He couldn’t help it, and did not care.
“You know; I never can get past it either…” Frankie replied, putting a hand on Tom’s wrist.
Tom kept his head down, the tears dropping on the table. He sat like that for so long then took a breath, wiped his face.