The full moon rose early that night and hung low, looming over the rooftop like a malevolent eye. It was huge, tainted red by the glow of the setting sun.
She shivered, despite the June heat, and looked up.
“The last day is over,” she whispered.
“The last night begins.”
He raised his glass to hers. The gentle clink of glass on glass rang out like a bell.
“To the first night,” he said.
She nodded in return. “To the birth of perfection.”
They watched the moon rise higher in the sky.
And then the world ended.
© Kari Fay