by Dave Sixsmith

I’d said that the end of the world was bound to be a friday, right, because then
we’d have worked all bloody week, right, and then we’d miss out on the bloody
weekend, and Martin had said, no mate, it’ll be a tuesday, so I’d laughed and said ten pound, and he’d laughed and said twenty, and we shook, and then it’s a few days later and I’m looking out the window and there are fires, and the sky is deep red, and then the building starts to shake and I glance at Martin and he’s grinning.