Goodbye, my friends.
They stand around the fire waiting for Conficker to come.
They stand staring at the fire, voices hollow but eyes brimming with memories.
Jeff shifts a little to the left. He left school to attend more school, and lived a life terribly alone. “I know you’re married, but I always loved you,” he whispers into her ear. She whispers, “I know.” And they hold hands.
The old man, wearing his best suit, pushes his dentures in.
A boy puts on his superhero cape and faces west. He is only eight, but his parents are already dead. His cheeks are puffy, and he puffs his chest out as well.
The light creeps over the group.
“It’s coming,” someone says.
“Shh.”