10 - radioactive, pt. 1

It is all gray.

Around me, people stagger aimlessly, coughing, pressing their oxygen masks to their face. The heavy smog is wrapped around the city, weighing down the sky with pollution. When I look toward the tall buildings of the downtown area, I can only see for a few hundred feet before the rest of the area fades into fog. And when I look upward, all I can see is the thick black dust filling the sky. There is no sunlight here – nothing that I can feel. Just a milky light filtered through the smog.

But I am infinite.

I stand up on my tiptoes, reaching up with empty fingers, stretching towards the broken sky. Then I step forward and lift off the ground. I soar upward. The wind whips at the tail of my shirt, and I breathe in the air, gasp for it, take more deep breathes than I have in years. My dream self doesn't need to wear a mask to breathe.

I pause when I reach the peak of the tallest building, hanging there in a dark cloud, a massive ghost that covers everything.

I'm waking up to ash and dust

I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust

I'm breathing in the chemicals

This is it – the apocalypse.