As if contemplating your own mortality wasn’t terrifying enough, what would you do if all those end-of-the-world rumors suddenly came true and you were face to face with a terrorist alien brigade sent to clear the earth of human filth?
You won’t be getting much shut eye tonight.
You are going to get jealous of people who have both parents.
I know it’s been a long while. And while I’m sorry for that, I regret to say. I literally cannot account for the missing time. Since my last entry, I reckon it’s been months to you all, but to me, it’s been a night. I know that must seem confusing, but hopefully you’ll start understanding what I’ve been through.
Producer’s note: Someone on Quora asked: What’s it like to be a mortician? Here is one of the best answers that’s been pulled from the thread. I’ve been a mortician for almost 20 years.
It doesn’t feel like a time of celebration, but a time of mourning.
I like to know that things end. That there is a period at the end of a sentence.
It takes fourteen minutes and twelve seconds to walk to your home from mine every day. Your mother never fails to smile at me when she opens the door.
I remember staring at my first sonar scan. Your body in my womb gave me life no other phenomenon could. I miss that.
The wind suddenly picked up, bringing with it a few snowflakes. The first of the year.