Today, our manager told us the apocalypse occurred.
He said, "Excuse me, but the apocalypse happened. Everyone on Earth is dead. I'm sorry. We are the only people left."
Most people just kept shopping. Some looked around. One guy laughed. Some people buzzed nervously, their cart wheels clattered like deaf tambourines.
Rainbo, an overweight hippy, came on the intercom and read a poem about the first time she did extacy. "I hope that helps," she said, "I once lived in a geodesic dome. I didn't think I would ever miss it." She sounded flat and mixed up, like how particle boards look stacked next to each other.
My manager came on again and said he was sorry that everyone's families are dead. He sounded like he might cry or smile.
I kept sweeping and concentrated on the back and forth motion. The more I stared the more the everything started vibrating and felt like slow-motion. I opened my mouth and felt the vibrations of words on my tongue, but none came out. They lay humming in my throat, warming it slowly, causing me to choke a little. My mouth closed by itself. I thought I might cry or yell. I didn't do either.
The automatic doors were quiet. People started to become visibly nervous.