The World Keeps Ending, and the World Goes On

by Franny Choi

Lord, I confess I want the clarity of catastrophe but not the catastrophe. Like everyone else, I want a storm I can dance in. I want an excuse to change my life.

Sixty-six million years after the last great extinction, six to eight business days before the next one, I whispered Speak to a fucking agent into the hold music to trigger the system into connecting

Dystopia is the word for what’s already happened so many times, it’s the reason ________’s so cheap.

If I love anyone enough to know they deserve better than me, and stay anyway, then: What?