Countdown

I was in class when it happened. In fact, I was daydreaming about my soul mate, doodling in the margins of my notebook while my History teacher blathered on about some such war that no one cared about anymore. I wouldn’t say that I was happy in that moment, but I was certainly content enough. My timer was ticking away, I had just sent off my college applications, and I didn’t have any exams until next week.

A brief, sharp pain on my wrist caused me to look down.

I noticed the quiet before anything else. Though timers are almost silent, the lack of a familiar, albeit faint, tick was obvious to my ears. I had gone literally my whole life hearing the hushed sound of numbers turning. And now, nothing.

“No!” The word burst, unbidden, from my lungs as a tear slipped down my cheek. The whole class was staring now, and the horror-filled looks in their eyes made it clear that they knew. I had heard of this happening—even in this time, the unthinkable happened and people got into car accidents or predicaments where they would lose their life before meeting the one. Yet I had never fathomed that it would happen to me.

“I’m so sorry, Brent,” My teacher’s words fell on deaf ears as I stared, dumbly, at my wrist. All zeroes flashing at me.