I remember the end of the world very vividly. Not like, “Oh my God, Harper, Vivian Hall just told the entire class that you started your period in gym class,” teenager end of the world. I mean, the literal end of the world.
In old movies, this literal end of the world typically revolves around one of three specific scenarios.
One: Aliens invade our planet to take over our resources and show the galaxy that they’re the big kids on the playground.
Two: There is some crazy zombie epidemic that turns us all into flesh eaters who stumble around looking like lost tourists down in Times Square.
Three: An asteroid plummets towards the earth and, much to our dismay, Bruce Willis is unavailable to pull off his last minute save the world routine.
Instead, my literal end of the world starts with silence.