As the Umatter bus passes Tower, it is stopped by a man standing in the middle of the street. His arms are spread out above him and he’s staring into the sky as if deep in prayer.
“What was so different about turning twenty? It means I have passed something. That is to say, I have disappointed already. Former promise has resigned itself.”
It’s the apocalypse, and in its last death rattle, the illustrious Nassau Weekly decides to leave one more gift to humanity, to create the only remembrance of our time on earth, to cement an eternal legacy—to publish THE LAST LIST.
