At The End Of The World
There’s a man named Frank. He stands at his fruit stand and offers you advice. You hesitate to ask for anything because, well, what’s the point? But something inside you decides to ask the question anyway.
“...was any of it worth it?”
And Frank, as steady and as sure as he has ever been, replies simply, “Of course.”
“But what was any of it for?”
“For the sunsets, and the flowers.”
“I sure will miss the flowers.”
“Miss them? Why? They will always be here. Just as they have been. Long before you or I existed. Long before the end. Certainly, they will still be here after.”
“But...”
“Just because the world is ending, does not mean beauty will forever cease to exist.”
You pause, then nod, and buy a peach from Frank, thanking him for his time.
You find yourself walking away, but something compels you to turn your head. You glance back as the world caves in and there is Frank, face turned upwards, smiling, into the sunset.
