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The Last Human on Earth
It had been a long time since the end. A long time since the last murmur of mankind had blurred into the breeze. Ethan meandered through the skeletal remaining parts of a once-flourishing city, his strides reverberating off broke asphalt and broke glass. The breeze pulled at the worn out sleeves of his coat, an update that nature reclaiming had once had a place with mankind.
He hadn’t cried in months. The initial not many days had been a haze of rushed looking, of calling out into the unfilled roads, anticipating somebody, anybody, to answer. However, there had been no responses. No voices. Not even the murmur of far off traffic or the robot of planes above. Simply quiet. The harsh kind, the sort that sunk into your bones and made you question whether you were as yet alive or simply some failed to remember leftover of a world that had continued on.
Ethan had figured out how to quit looking for different survivors. Reality had gotten comfortable, cold and immovable: he was separated from everyone else. Totally. Absolutely. Alone.
He had once been an honest man, somebody who put stock in reason, in predetermination, in the possibility that everything occurred on purpose. Be that as it may, presently, meandering through the abandoned vestiges of development, he was unable to force himself to have confidence in anything. The world had finished. There was no great explanation for it, not an obvious reason, simply an unexpected, odd breakdown of all that he had known.
Today, as most days, he wound up at the highest point of a slope sitting above what had once been a rambling city. The structures were disintegrating, some fell totally, others inclining at odd points like the remnants of antiquated sanctuaries. He had no clue about what had caused the end. It didn’t make any difference any longer. Individuals he had adored were gone — his folks, his companions, his associates. The countenances were blurring now, similar to old photos left too lengthy in the sun.
Ethan dropped to his knees in the road, his hands squeezed against his temple. He let the tears come. It was the main thing left to do.
“Why?” he murmured to nobody specifically. “Why bother with this?”
His voice sounded unfamiliar to him, like he hadn’t spoken in years. Furthermore, as it were, perhaps he hadn’t. There was nobody left to address. Nobody to hear his contemplations or offer in the heaviness of his distress.
Somewhere far off, he detected a glimmer of variety — a red scarf, blowing in the breeze. His heart shocked, and he sprang to his feet, his heartbeat animating. He must envision it. There was nobody. In any case, he ran at any rate, down the road, his legs hurting, his breath battered. The scarf vacillated ahead, trapped in the breeze, floating like a ghost.
At the point when he arrived where he had seen the blaze of variety, he halted, chest hurling. The breeze was still, and there was nothing. No scarf. No individual. Only unfilled, windblown roads.
Ethan giggled — unpleasant, short, a sound that felt empty in his chest. He was flipping out. It was the main clarification. His considerations were starting to double-cross him, winding around deceptions out of the void. There was no other person.
“Get a hold of yourself,” he murmured to himself. His voice felt little, irrelevant in the huge void around him.
He sank back to the ground, his back against a demolished vehicle. There, in the cool quietness of the evening, he gazed at the sky. The mists were delicate, rolling things, floating apathetically across the light blue scope. It nearly appeared as though the world was as yet alive, as yet turning.
But, he was right here.
For quite a while, he didn’t move, didn’t think. He just existed in the immensity of quiet, and without precedent for what felt like always, he let the tranquility wash over him. It wasn’t harmony, precisely — there was not a single harmony in sight — yet it was something like acknowledgment. A tranquil renunciation that maybe the world had not finished for some extraordinary vast explanation, some fabulous arrangement that was outside his ability to comprehend. It had finished in light of the fact that it was delicate. Since everything is.
Perhaps, in some little way, that was sufficient.
As the sun set, painting the sky in tones of orange and purple, Ethan stood up leisurely, the heaviness of his isolation actually proceeding him, yet somewhat less choking out at this point. He got some distance from the city, strolling gradually down a way he hadn’t taken previously.
Maybe, tomorrow, he would go to the sea. Or on the other hand perhaps he would ascend a mountain, see the world from another level. The potential outcomes were unfathomable at this point.
All things considered, he was the keep going human on The planet.
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