II. Ad Lucem

WOMAN: Excuse me…

The woman’s voice interrupts the protagonists daydreaming, slightly making him jump.

PROTAG: Wha- what? Yes?

WOMAN: What the hell are you doing?

The protagonist looks around his immediate area trying to understand what he may be doing to cause the reaction.

PROTAG: Sitting? I’m sitting.

WOMAN: Why the fuck are you sitting.

PROTAG: I don’t – I don’t understand the question.

WOMAN: Yeah. Sitting? You’re fucking sickening.

The protagonist’s mood is shifting from pure bewilderment to anger.

PROTAG: Jesus Christ, what the fuck is wrong with sitting? What’s your problem?

The woman smiles at the protagonist, as if she was just trying to get a reaction out of him in the first place.

WOMAN: You realize the whole fucking world is ending tonight right?

PROTAG: Yeah, and?

WOMAN: And? And, it’s 3:33 right now, and it’s the last 3:33 you’re ever going to see! Look – it’s 3:34 now, there! Your last 3:33 and you wasted it doing nothing.

PROTAG: …

Woman moves closer to the protagonist, eventually sitting on the bench beside him.

WOMAN: Where’s your grand act of defiance? Where’s your fairy-tale ending? You really want to have to say that you spent most of your final fucking day on Earth, sitting on a bench, doing nothing.

PROTAG: Well I won’t say anything because I’ll be fucking dead.

The woman giggles.

WOMAN: Exactly. Dead. That’s why your last moments should be eventful. You can live a whole life in a day you know?

PROTAG: Whatever you say lady.

There’s a brief pause. The protagonist is looking at his shoes and the woman is looking at him. The woman lets out a large sigh and puts her hand on his back.

WOMAN: Here. Come with me.