Eliot watched the end of the world unfold from the comfort of his couch. He flipped through channels, eyes glossing over the news headlines that repeated phrases like “natural earthquakes” or “rapture” or “liberal agenda.”
As the newscasters droned on about Vatican City’s seismic demise and the submergence of France, Eliot lamented every menial screw-up and each missed opportunity. But there was one singular failure that absorbed his thoughts.
Eliot slipped his phone out of his pocket and sighed at the lack of messages from Samantha. He rose to his feet and took one last look at his slender silhouette in the reflection of the television screen. It’s now or never.
*****
Samantha was perturbed by the ongoing armageddon. Since the unofficially-dubbed “smitings” began, the internet had erupted with polarizing reactions, with meteorologists arguing over the facts and dutiful Christians cramming every corner of the web with “I told you so’s.” She groaned and flung herself back onto her bed.
A bright red flash of nearby lightning illuminated the sketchbooks strewn across Samantha’s floor. The subsequent boom rattled her poster-covered walls, accompanied by a cracking sound as bricks barraged the street below. I’ll bet that was the Johnsons, she mused absentmindedly, dust sprinkling from her ceiling.
Against all odds, the far-off storm had a strangely calming effect, and her mind began to drift to a memory from last week.
*****
The clouds had been a gray sheet when Samantha bumped into Eliot at a small cafe. “Sam!” he beamed. “I haven’t seen you since high school!”
Samantha slipped a wayward curl behind her ear, which stubbornly bounced back. “Please don’t remind me of high school,” she chuckled.
The old friends squeezed into the booth by the window, reminiscing about high school. As rain began to patter against the glass and muffle the traffic outside, the initially stilted conversation gave way to giggling and the occasional playful shove. Increasingly soaked patrons flowed through the cafe, and the pair attempted to draw out the interaction with small sips and a second round of drinks. It wasn’t until the dimming sky crackled with thunder that Samantha checked the time on her phone.
“Oh my god,” she blurted, turning her screen to face Eliot. “We’ve been here for almost two hours. I’m so sorry but I gotta get home.”
“Oh, you don’t need to apologize,” Eliot responded, finishing off the last bites of his blueberry scone. “But, um . . . ” The two turned their attention to the roaring downpour directly outside the foggy window. “Are you gonna walk out in that?”
“That’s the plan,” Samantha laughed after savoring her last sip of now cold coffee. “I only live a couple blocks away.” As she slid her jacket on to leave, Samantha abruptly realized — she didn’t want Eliot to go. “Although, if you had an umbrella on you,” she began, her cheeks beginning to burn pink. “I could be persuaded to let you walk me home.”
“I don’t have an umbrella . . . ” Eliot replied, struggling to remove his outer layer. “But I have this.” He held out a gray coat and held it over his head. “I promise it’s water resistant.”
The thoroughly drenched duo clung to one another and laughed against the piercing wind, neither one daring to let go. Numerous left and right turns slurred together as Samantha guided Eliot through the blustery city, and the two practically tumbled through the automatic doors of Samantha’s apartment building. They shivered together in the lobby before Eliot realized that he was still holding onto her and hurriedly withdrew to a respectable distance.
Giggling, Samantha ran her fingers over her slick hair. “What was that about your jacket being waterproof?”
Eliot chuckled, glancing at the puddle his dripping jacket was making on the tiled floor. “I said water resistant, not waterproof.”
An expectant silence lingered as muted rain pummeled the pavement outside. “Hey,” started Samantha, suppressing the overwhelming urge to smile. “I can make a killer chicken noodle soup if you want to come up to my apartment.”
Eliot glanced up, startled; blushed; and quickly reverted to studying the floor. “I’d love to, but my dog’s been home alone for too long.”
Sam lifted her pinkie outwards. “In that case, pinkie promise you’ll text.”
The two locked both eyes and pinkies, and Eliot grinned. “Only if you do the same.”
*****
Why didn’t I text her? thought Eliot as he made his way past the smashed windows and wailing car alarms of the chaos-ridden city. When he finally reached the familiar apartment building, Eliot brushed off the accumulated ash on his pant leg and walked through the automatic doors.
I’m gonna ask her, he thought while pressing the elevator button. And if she says yes, we’ll — the elevator doors slid open, and Eliot was shocked to meet Samantha’s gaze.
The two of them were enveloped in stunned silence, entirely void of the nearby sirens and explosions.
The awkwardness was broken by Samantha’s gushing confession. “I really like you and I don’t know why you didn’t text me and I was leaving to ask you if you wanted to go on a date sometime.” Her mostly comprehensible sentence was punctuated by screams a couple blocks down.
“Yes,” Eliot blurted.
“Oh my god. Okay, great!” Samantha replied. Then she glanced out to the sky, seeing the rapidly approaching, blood-red rain clouds. “I’ll just go up and grab an umbrella. Wanna come with?”
As the newscasters droned on about Vatican City’s seismic demise and the submergence of France, Eliot lamented every menial screw-up and each missed opportunity. But there was one singular failure that absorbed his thoughts.
Eliot slipped his phone out of his pocket and sighed at the lack of messages from Samantha. He rose to his feet and took one last look at his slender silhouette in the reflection of the television screen. It’s now or never.
*****
Samantha was perturbed by the ongoing armageddon. Since the unofficially-dubbed “smitings” began, the internet had erupted with polarizing reactions, with meteorologists arguing over the facts and dutiful Christians cramming every corner of the web with “I told you so’s.” She groaned and flung herself back onto her bed.
A bright red flash of nearby lightning illuminated the sketchbooks strewn across Samantha’s floor. The subsequent boom rattled her poster-covered walls, accompanied by a cracking sound as bricks barraged the street below. I’ll bet that was the Johnsons, she mused absentmindedly, dust sprinkling from her ceiling.
Against all odds, the far-off storm had a strangely calming effect, and her mind began to drift to a memory from last week.
*****
The clouds had been a gray sheet when Samantha bumped into Eliot at a small cafe. “Sam!” he beamed. “I haven’t seen you since high school!”
Samantha slipped a wayward curl behind her ear, which stubbornly bounced back. “Please don’t remind me of high school,” she chuckled.
The old friends squeezed into the booth by the window, reminiscing about high school. As rain began to patter against the glass and muffle the traffic outside, the initially stilted conversation gave way to giggling and the occasional playful shove. Increasingly soaked patrons flowed through the cafe, and the pair attempted to draw out the interaction with small sips and a second round of drinks. It wasn’t until the dimming sky crackled with thunder that Samantha checked the time on her phone.
“Oh my god,” she blurted, turning her screen to face Eliot. “We’ve been here for almost two hours. I’m so sorry but I gotta get home.”
“Oh, you don’t need to apologize,” Eliot responded, finishing off the last bites of his blueberry scone. “But, um . . . ” The two turned their attention to the roaring downpour directly outside the foggy window. “Are you gonna walk out in that?”
“That’s the plan,” Samantha laughed after savoring her last sip of now cold coffee. “I only live a couple blocks away.” As she slid her jacket on to leave, Samantha abruptly realized — she didn’t want Eliot to go. “Although, if you had an umbrella on you,” she began, her cheeks beginning to burn pink. “I could be persuaded to let you walk me home.”
“I don’t have an umbrella . . . ” Eliot replied, struggling to remove his outer layer. “But I have this.” He held out a gray coat and held it over his head. “I promise it’s water resistant.”
The thoroughly drenched duo clung to one another and laughed against the piercing wind, neither one daring to let go. Numerous left and right turns slurred together as Samantha guided Eliot through the blustery city, and the two practically tumbled through the automatic doors of Samantha’s apartment building. They shivered together in the lobby before Eliot realized that he was still holding onto her and hurriedly withdrew to a respectable distance.
Giggling, Samantha ran her fingers over her slick hair. “What was that about your jacket being waterproof?”
Eliot chuckled, glancing at the puddle his dripping jacket was making on the tiled floor. “I said water resistant, not waterproof.”
An expectant silence lingered as muted rain pummeled the pavement outside. “Hey,” started Samantha, suppressing the overwhelming urge to smile. “I can make a killer chicken noodle soup if you want to come up to my apartment.”
Eliot glanced up, startled; blushed; and quickly reverted to studying the floor. “I’d love to, but my dog’s been home alone for too long.”
Sam lifted her pinkie outwards. “In that case, pinkie promise you’ll text.”
The two locked both eyes and pinkies, and Eliot grinned. “Only if you do the same.”
*****
Why didn’t I text her? thought Eliot as he made his way past the smashed windows and wailing car alarms of the chaos-ridden city. When he finally reached the familiar apartment building, Eliot brushed off the accumulated ash on his pant leg and walked through the automatic doors.
I’m gonna ask her, he thought while pressing the elevator button. And if she says yes, we’ll — the elevator doors slid open, and Eliot was shocked to meet Samantha’s gaze.
The two of them were enveloped in stunned silence, entirely void of the nearby sirens and explosions.
The awkwardness was broken by Samantha’s gushing confession. “I really like you and I don’t know why you didn’t text me and I was leaving to ask you if you wanted to go on a date sometime.” Her mostly comprehensible sentence was punctuated by screams a couple blocks down.
“Yes,” Eliot blurted.
“Oh my god. Okay, great!” Samantha replied. Then she glanced out to the sky, seeing the rapidly approaching, blood-red rain clouds. “I’ll just go up and grab an umbrella. Wanna come with?”