The meteor rocketed towards earth. Scientists predicted it’d crash in under an hour. With her legs dangling over the side of her roof, Sandra observed the chaos on her street. Looters ran from burning homes carrying televisions and vases. On the lawn across from her, a prayer circle held hands and begged for deliverance. Below, two men wrestled on the ground with knives and broken bottles. Sandra studied the liquors next to her. Would it be Vodka or Rum? Should she mix it with bitters or mango juice? What drink would be perfect for the end of the world?

A man in a red bandanna dug his nails into her brick wall and climbed, a knife dangling from his belt. Sandra edged backwards then relaxed when he fell to the ground. She decided on a Moscow Mule as bandanna man scaled up again. She ignored him. The meteor was close, crashing downward until there was no blue left in the sky, just fire and fumes. Sandra put on her sunglasses. Bandanna man was on the roof now, his knife outstretched and dripping. She lifted her glass to the meteor as it struck earth and carried her off into the sunset.