The day before The Rapture (May 21) M dreams about being taken. She is invited into a church and she wakes before making up her mind about whether to go or stick around in hell with me.
It’s Sunday (May 22) and M is still with me. We survived The Rapture, although I’m not entirely convinced. Seems to me it’s like the end of hockey season. It’s not that hockey doesn’t exist, it’s just that there are no games. In other words, maybe we weren’t paying attention. And in Brooklyn and Manhattan, where I’ve been now pretty much 24-7 since Morocco in October, the chances of people who I regularly socialize and work with being candidates for The Rapture are pretty slim. I can’t miss the End of the World, if that happens. On Friday, October 21. A hockey night!
