I can't believe the world's ending, and it's only Tuesday.
It's not that it didn't seem likely, it's just so flipping inconvenient.
Sure, we'd heard for months (months? Feels like forever) about how alarmingly hot the planet was getting (even Mrs Morley has a tan and she's Scottish) and Sebastian's girlfriend says we're spending half of our national defence budget blasting comets into space dust before they rain down on our sky gardens.
But still, folks, I had something important that I was going to do on Saturday. Monumental.
Four
Straight
Days
Away
And now it's scuppered. I'm scuppered.
And I don't know how I'm going to explain away this one.
YOU ARE READING
Neverending
Science FictionThe world's about to end and Tinder has only one thing on his mind: Where is Juliette? Racing against time, rapturous weather and the unbelievable pre-apocalyptic traffic, Tinder is determined to beat it all to find his person. His one. Because...
