Theories of Global Warming

~Lee~

It hasn't even been twenty-four hours and I had lost everything that was closest to me. My friends. They were the only thing that made sense it this world, and I had watched them all lay lifelessly.

I called Provence's mom. I asked her to pick me up and I would explain later. She wanted to know if I was okay, but all I did was sob into the phone.

As I hung up, the wind died down. My guess was that the tornado was over. However, I could tell that this wasn't the end. Like Arum said, the world will still continue to suffer... There was nothing anyone could do about it at this point. Humans had already destroyed the Earth so much. Not even Provence could fix it now.

***

A Few days later

I stood in front of my friends' graves, right next to Daryl. We didn't dare speak to each other.

Flowers the shade of Taylor Swift's lipstick and the sun were clenched in Daryl's hands. He bent down and set them in front of Arum's gravestone. With one more glance he turned around, gave me a pat on the shoulder, and walked away.

Provence's mom let me skip school that week. I wasn't getting enough sleep and I reeked of smoke constantly. Also, I would refuse to take showers.

Doran, Provence's brother had come home for a couple days to come to the funeral and be with his mom. He approached me.

"It's time to go, dude," he forced a smile before heading towards the car.

I leaned down to Terry's gravestone and fist bumped it. When we told his mom about what had happened to him, she fled town. She didn't even show up to the funeral.

"I'm so sorry," I spoke, melancholy flooded throughout my body, "for everything."

I was perched on the roof outside of the guest room I was staying in, smoking a cigarette. The air had suddenly become cold again, and I had on the new jacket Provence had gotten me a while back, which still had the fumes of new leather.

I heard a tapping sound from behind me. With a long, drawn out sigh, I wiped the bud on the shingles, watching the sparks die out on the roof.

I turned to see Doran. His neon blue hair pulled into a man bun, and he was wearing a red and black robe that reminded me of a lumberjack. He poked his head out the window.

"So," he started ignoring the pack of camels that was sitting beside of me, "I heard you have some problems with your eyesight," he swung his legs over and sat on the window pane.

"How did you know that?" I questioned, trying to ignore the pack of cigarettes as much as he was. In the past three days, I have already made it through five packs, which is a record for me. Some may say it was because I was bored and had nothing to do, but I knew it was on account of stress.

"Provence used to stress write to me all the time about you," he cackled a bit, before pulling out a pair of light brown circle lense glasses from the pocket of his "lumberjack" robe. He handed them to me.

"We have a lot in common. We wear the same sized clothing, we have the same problems, I thought we may have the same eyeglass prescription too," he laughed again. I slowly took them from him. The lenses were spotless, but he frames looked a bit worn out. "Don't worry," he waved his hand, "I wear contacts now."

I slid them onto my face, and closed my eyes, scared they would hurt them. I fixed my shaggy hair so that it wasn't underneath them.

"Open your eyes, loser!" he shouted, excited to see my reaction. I did what he said and ripped them open.