Red plagued the office corridors along with dissonant alarm bells. It was what jerked Violet out of her seat before she became part of the scramble towards the exit. Amidst the crowd, she chanced upon a familiar face. Although the distraught expression it wore was new. Evan was her desk neighbour; his amiability made him a people magnet, and Violet was hardly an exception. Gesturing a palm upwards, Violet furrowed her brows into what she hoped portrayed ‘confused'. Out of obligation, only a soul as kind as his would feel, Evan's mouth opened for a response stolen by mayhem.

Autumn chill prickled Violet's face as she was unceremoniously shoved through the door. Outside was chaos amplified. Cars askew on the streets. Shards of glass littering the pavements. Exasperated phone calls. Confessed secrets. Wailing toddlers and adults alike. Shock. Scepticism. Satisfaction. Glimpses of people bartering for time they will never have. A whisper of hope just out of reach. Thousands of sounds intertwining to form a deafening silence.

Nearby, a homeless man lay sprawled on the ground, oddly at ease. Violet was no stranger to him. In fact, she might almost consider him a friend. At times, she dwelled on the fact that his kindness may stem from the quarter she tossed him daily. But she stopped herself—nothing good ever came from overthinking. She crouched down, waving her hand in front of his delirious face. He responded with a languorous smile, his rusty voice crackling as he spoke, "It's the end of the world, I tell you". His grin widened surreptitiously, and he gestured at what was once a semblance of an orderly society. As he mumbled words incoherent to sober ears, she caught the whispers of ‘one hour left'.

Teetering on the edge of disbelief and acceptance, blonde curls overtook her vision. An out-of-breath Evan appeared, cornflower eyes sparkling with the promise of mischief and brewing joy sucked out of Violet years before. The prior sombreness that weighed his expression was replaced with a grin so bright that it tempted Icarus. He grabbed her hand, and Violet's feet followed amidst the cacophony of screams and maze of people until they reached an abandoned dessert stall.

Almost as an afterthought, Evan asked if she had any plans for this last meal. He chided himself internally for his haste and clasped his hands together to quell his trembling fingers. Being nervous was foreign to the meticulously planned Evan. To him, everything was another predictable algorithm: study hard, you get good grades; act nice, people like you. A mindset that was the byproduct of conscious effort and dedicated time—the latter of which was absent from this scenario.

The mere seconds between his question and her answer gaped like a chasm.

Violet shook her head, and a keener eye would have questioned his visible relief. She waited outside as he stepped over the ledge through what was once a window. A moment later, he reemerged with two uneven dollops of ice cream: cookies and cream and mint chocolate.

There were 50 minutes left when he passed the better flavour to her and continued their walk. Violet had shared her tastes once, during sector introductions. She gathered that either Evan had a striking memory or, more likely, it was a lucky coincidence. As they ate their dessert, he started talking. The topics were haphazard but passionate (a tendency when the world ends), and Violet found herself enamoured with his words.

This quarter hour was the most she had learned, would ever learn, about him. His family was back in America, he used to own a pet rabbit (but truthfully, he was quite scared of it), he played libero, he majored in finance, his favourite colour was purple, and his dream was to travel the world. Evan carried the conversation naturally, with laughter that made Violet's stomach flip for reasons unbeknownst to her. Violet nodded along with genuine interest for this life, so lively compared to hers. He was the flame in a world of moths.

With half an hour to spare, Violet finished their ice cream as they reached the beach. It was sunset, and if she knew any better, she might say this was planned. Glancing at his watch, Evan's jaw clenched; the day was running out, and time taunted him to tell her what he had meant to all day. Violet, unaware of his turmoil, endearingly excused his blush as a nervous habit.

The beach was barren save for the crabs. Most people were spending time with their loved ones. Absently, Violet wondered about the others Evan could have been with instead. She quickly stopped herself—nothing good ever came from overthinking. He laid his jacket out, and they sat there on the sand, the waves lapping idly in front of them.

When he asked her about herself, Violet felt for her phone. She frowned when it was not there, realising it was likely abandoned with her notepad and pen at the desk during the earlier frenzy. Flushing with embarrassment, Violet bit her lip as she made a Y-shape with her hand, placing her thumb close to her ear and pointing at Evan, hoping he understood. 

Evan smiled nervously. "You can sign in front of me, if that's alright?".

Violet blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. Evan's laughter filled the air, and butterflies ricocheted in her stomach. She held both palms up and shook them sideways. He explained that he was not proficient yet, but could hold basic conversations. Then, he learned that she had no siblings, was a sucker for cats (but did not have any), liked to draw, her favourite colour was blue, and, like him, her dream was to travel. She learned that he had recently started studying sign language.

What he did not mention was how he had recently started studying sign language for her.

With 5 minutes left, there was much to say that it dissolved into nothing at all. At some point, their hands had inched together, and their fingers grazed. A thousand thoughts swarmed in Violet's head. The question ‘why' was threatening to break free—she held it: nothing good ever came from overthinking. She could not remember the last time she had such a lucid conversation. Albeit needing to finger spell a few words here and there, her heart felt full from the opportunity.

There were 60 seconds left until the world ended, and for a fleeting moment, Violet tasted happiness.

When there was an hour before the world exploded, it took Evan all of 14 seconds to decide to go all in. His resolves were set on telling Violet, no matter what. Especially if telling her was the last thing he did. Now, with less than a minute left, simply seeing the smile on her face changed everything. Inherently, humans are selfish creatures that choose selflessness only if it benefits them. A longing to capture her smile in time led Evan to do the one thing he could to mimic the semblance: he remained silent.

Ultimately, it is what constrains us that it is the bane of humanity toying with its very existence. Chasing an unattainable perfection, taunted by what-ifs.

"The moon is beautiful, isn't it?" he conveyed a thousand unspoken words in his last breath.

She nodded in agreement, looking up into the expanse of matter and all things that did not. Too enraptured was she to notice his gaze on her. The stars laughed at the man, thinking him a coward. What fools are stars, for we look away and they disappear. His eyes trailed over her face, etching it into memory, yearning for what could have been.

But time is a mocking thing.

And the world shattered into fragments of darkness.