IRC-Galleria

And there she sat. It was the end of the world.

The music played endlessly, it looped desperately. The last survivors of the dustbowl raved to the beat with devotion of an assured, lurking end. Everyone here had been lost, just like her.

She sat at the all-seen wooden table, listening to the hypnotic, surreal dance beat in a former highway rock bar. There simply was nothing more. Everything was here.

Yet everything was void. From the beginning to the end, it held no meaning.

She stood up. The loop grabbed her for the last time.