The World in Winter

I remember. I remember writing and running. I remember being young and hopeful and running towards the future.

I am an old man now. The world has changed on me. It has changed on all of us.

Winter has come. The last winter, I suppose, though I use "last" to refer to the last humans will experience - there will probably be many more winters for the cockroaches and the mountains and the planet Earth. But not for humans.

Because this winter is different. It's an old winter - it's a winter caused by Him. The Boy. (Is it silly that I still call him a boy, even though I know he absolutely isn't one? That's what she called him and I suppose I still call him that out of respect to her.) It spread across the world and covered everything in a layer of ice.

I don't know why He has done this. Perhaps He became bored with same old, same old (and, in that respect, we are alike). Ours is not to reason why, I guess. Ours is simply to last as long as we can before the cold takes us. I suppose this record is my last will and testament, although the only thing I will be leaving behind is...well, this journal.

I suppose it's time I introduced myself, then.

Hello, my name is Tav Lowe. Welcome to the end of the world.