Written by Jacob Ibrag
‘Name?’ She’s looking at my identification while
asking me for my God given, well randomly chosen out of a
hat alias. So I lie. I tell her that the world is going to end, eventually.
She looks up from her lumpy nineties model computer screen and asks
me to, ‘come again sir? Look I’ve got my fifteen in twenty and I don’t need
this crazy talk especially from a guy named,’ I tell it’s just a joke. Not really
though. I mean it is ending, I whisper. It’s a slow descend and it’s not a true
collective. ‘Collective?’ Collective. It’s a singular event if you think about
it, I tell her. ‘When the world ends, we go al-.’ A single shot goes
off. Someone exits. Bits of my frontal lobe in her hair.
I’m still conscious so, I finish my sentence.