“Blue or green?” Scarlett asks, holding up two miniature bottles of iridescent nail polish to the light, glass glinting in the setting sun.  I point to the blue and she nods, placing her soft, sturdy fingers beneath my trembling ones before brushing the paint onto my dirty, anxiously torn nails.

“I like this color,” she says, lips turning up into a warm, summery smile.  “It matches your eyes.”  Rather than responding, I simply stare at her, watching as she moves from my thumb to my pointer to my middle finger without once wavering.  We’re twenty-four hours out from the forecasted asteroid impact, the one predicted to split the earth in two and bring certain death to everyone on it, and she’s smiling.

I don’t understand it.  Panic, fear, anger, despair: these feelings have been pulsing through my veins with each fleeting heartbeat since the reports came in.  Barely eighteen, we were supposed to have years ahead of us; now it’s all been stripped down to a meager day.  Our lives the way we planned them are not options anymore.  We’ll never go to college or get a job or travel the world or get married or pursue our passions.  There’s hardly even enough time to come to terms with it all.  So, why anyone would be happy is beyond me, but Scarlett and I?  We've lost our futures just before they were about to begin.

“How are you so calm?” I ask finally.  The brush halts in midair as she stops to meet my eyes.

“I guess, there’s no reason for me to be worried,” she replies, handing the polish and brush to me.  Slowly, I start on her left hand, desperately trying to steady my shaking strokes.  “Sure, there’s plenty of things I wish I’d had the time for.  Skydiving, for instance.  Or learning how to sail.  But there’s not much I regret, either.”  She hums, tilting her head to the side like a bird.

“Given the circumstances, I’d say I lived a pretty good life.  Even though I don’t have a fully checked-off bucket list, I’ve still spent my time doing things that make me happy.  Painting nails, for instance.  Or watching the sunset.”  We both pause to glance up at the half-lit sky, pinks and oranges and reds blending together like watercolors.  Mild, wispy clouds weave a delicate veil around the red sun, laying it gently to sleep as the wind whistles a tender lullaby.  It’s beautiful. From this scene alone, it would be impossible to tell the world is about to collapse.

I finish the last corner of Scarlett’s pinky, and as she leans her head against my shoulder, I actually feel myself relax.  

“Besides,” Scarlett whispers, “you’re here with me.  What else could I ask for?”

We sit there for a while, hands drying in the wind, waiting noiselessly for our story to end.