allrite

The neon lights reflect off the wet road like rainbows in the murky dusk light. On the horizon, only a thin line of orange is visible beneath the ominous grey, now and then rent by a white flash of lightning.

It is not a night to be outside.

I pull over into a fast food chain restaurant, order a burger meal with chips and drinks. It's not healthy, but who cares? Our lives, as we know them, will be over tomorrow anyway.

Oh, you didn't know? Of course you didn't. It's a secret, only a few of us do.

The Messengers arrived a couple of weeks ago. They told a few of us of the coming storm, of another race that would follow and enslave us all to strip this planet of its resources before moving on.

We can take but a few, they said. But not me. Don't ask me why. They never said. My wife, my child, yes, but not me.

So here I am, sitting in a burger bar, eating terrible food and waiting for a tomorrow that won't come.

I order a hot chocolate.

The rain drums against the roof, almost drowning out the thunder of the storm.

What am I doing here? If it's as bad as the Messengers said, I might as well off myself now.

But I am a bit curious. I can't help it. It's why I became a scientist, after all.

I'll wait until tomorrow, see them arrive, an then do it. Tomorrow is another day.

The rain does down and the passing storm reveals a night sky of brilliant diamonds of light.

I go home.