She checked her phone. 14:52, October 22, 2065. She was late. She tapped her foot against the grimy pavement, waiting for the light to turn red. As soon as the light changed, she sprinted through the swarms of people on the crosswalk, tripping in her three-inch heels while struggling to carry her plastic cups full of coffee and overflowing briefcases. Rain began to drop from the grey sky. Shoot, she cursed under her breath as the rain began to fall in sheets, forcing her into a nearby coffee shop. She opened the glass door and the bell rang. Rain dripped from her once coiffed hair and her tight skirt. She watched the seemingly endless rain drip down the window panes. She pulled out her phone and checked the time again. 15:03. She had missed the meeting. Someone turned on the news. The reporter began talking. “Millions of people in the Houston area are bracing for what is now being called Superstorm Dashiell. Due to global warming, a record-breaking superstorm has picked up speed and is barreling towards Austin, Texas, and it looks like the worst is yet to come. Hurricane-force winds extend almost 190,000 miles, affecting all of Texas and parts of Louisiana with wind speeds of up to 230 miles per hour. Many coastal towns have been evacuated. Houston alone could face catastrophic flooding and-” The glassy television shut off. Everything went silent. Everyone was frozen in fear. The woman tried to turn on her phone, but an error message popped up. No signal. Suddenly, screams filled the air around her. But the woman sat there, tapping her phone, trying to get a signal, oblivious to the danger surrounding her. A tall, burly man grabbed her arm and led her up the narrow stairs with the crowd. Water was pushing against the glass doors, forcing itself in. The man led the woman up to the highest level where the rest of the people were. A gust of wind shook the building. A support beam fell, trapping the people inside. No way out. The woman stood there, motionless, watching the injured people cry for help. The building smelled of peril. The crowd watched the horizon as if they were waiting for something to happen, waiting for someone to save them. The silhouette of a United States Army helicopter rose over the horizon. The crowd celebrated. They were saved. The man looked at the woman and grinned, and she looked back at him and smiled at the ground. As the helicopter got closer, it began to spin out of control and flew towards the building. It was not coming to save them, but was coming to be saved. “Out of the way!” someone shouted. They ran as the helicopter crashed into the tall glass windows. The glass shattered into millions of pieces, tearing through the air. An inferno erupted and smoke billowed throughout the building. Those who were not injured rushed to find something to put the blaze out. The man found a fire extinguisher and began to put out the fire while the woman sat there, hopeless. Those who could began to clap for the man who put out the fires as he checked on the rest to make sure they were okay or being cared for by other people who were willing to help. The glass had broken through the skin of the crowd, leaving many bleeding and scarred. Others had found cloth to stop the bleeding. As they continued to stare at the horizon, the sky began to darken. Silence. Three tornadoes rose from the horizon and barreled towards them. Screams filled the room, and the smell of panic poisoned the air. The man got up and began to look for an escape. He found a door and tried to open it, but it would not budge. “Come help me with this,” he said to the woman. The woman pushed herself up and began to pull on the heavy door. Finally, it opened. They both flew backward. Inside, there was a sign that read “Tornado Shelter.” The man’s face glowed with happiness. The tornadoes were now just a mile away. She watched as he dashed downstairs full of excitement and hope that the people could be saved, but he was met with frigid water that flooded the entire shelter. It was useless. The man’s once hopeful face now sunk. The woman waited for the man to come back, waiting for him to bring back faith. The man trudged up the stairs, but his look was solemn. And she knew. They looked out the broken windows, the dangerous tornadoes almost upon them. The people embraced each other, taking in the final faces they would see. Everyone held hands, knowing what was about to happen. The man pulled out his wallet from the pocket of his jacket. He took out a wrinkled picture from the inside fold. It was a man’s arm around two children and a woman kneeling beside them. They seemed happy. The man then looked at the woman and gave a bittersweet smile. The woman smiled back and opened her wallet. She had no one to say farewell to, no one to leave anything to. And so she closed her eyes and thought, This is the end.