I’m not sure where I am anymore, the days have blurred into one, the minutes have melted away into hours, the hours into seconds, the seconds into weeks, and time is no longer a unit of measurement, now it is simply a word, and soon it will cease to be even that. I lie atop a hill, the wind whipping at my hair, the grey clouds roll above my head, blotting out the sun in the most magnificent way.  I have no idea where I am, no idea who I am, and that is fine. There is a moment of clarity somewhere between the clouds, but it is swallowed up again with the sunlight, and I am at peace once again. I haven’t seen the sun in God knows how long, and I hope to never see it again.

	She is here too, beside me, lying on her back, smiling at the storm clouds ripping up the heavens above, as am I. She’s always been there, beside me, for as long as this moment has progressed, she has been there, and that is long enough. We met long ago, and have stuck together ever since. Have we stuck together out of love, or necessity? Fear of being alone, or fear of being with anyone but each other? I’m not sure. But all I know, all I need to know, is that she is there, sharing with me this scene of chaos and beauty.

	Beneath us are the ruins of humanity. A small town, set aflame by the few marauding humans left on the planet, light from the fires which consume it dance up into the clouds above, setting the grey horizon ablaze with orange and red. That town, that dead, decaying town, was our town. It was our birthplace, the place where we first met, the place where we fell in love, the place we left in search of a new life, and most importantly, the place we have returned to in search of an end to one that has grown far too old.