A smile. That had been the last thing I saw before a glimpse of the apocalypse visited us in that office room. My professor smiled to me as I entered along with other hopeful students. With this portfolio, my future was paved in gold. A better job, better home, a way of supporting my husband and the child on its way. It was work that I could manage, two months pregnant and beyond, without a care.

I filed my folder with the rest. It was then, as I turned, that I caught a glimpse of something outside the window. Sunlight glimmered upon its metallic surface, and swiftly, it came towards us. My eyes widened, and I stopped to stare. Another student noticed. He pointed, yelling.

Everybody was up, some flocking to the window in foolish curiosity, others screaming as they ran for the exit. The walls shuddered. The sound of shattered glass and thunder shrieked in my ears. Beneath my feet, it felt as though I was at sea with my husband again, sailing in that beaten ship that he and his friends so adored. The floor quaked and groaned. My sight dimmed, and another bang echoed.

That soothing memory fled as the room seemed to twist. I could only brace myself against the desk and move with the flow, finding nervous silence in the blackness that came upon me.

I did not wake up.

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