He opened the window and the morning breeze came in cool like every other morning. He saw dew on the grass glistening as the early morning clouds lit wine and orange as the orb neared topping the eastern hills. He saw the spider in the windowsill had moved on leaving a geometry of silk abandoned in a corner. Part of him wanted to leave it like a little gallery, part wanted to wash it clean away. His morning coffee was steaming little storms in his hand.
It was so hard to believe that this was the last day on earth.