Meanwhile, behind the stone…

Hey, wake up.
-Hi, I can’t sleep.
So let’s talk about tomorrow.
-Can’t you see I’m a little wrapped up right now?
I can’t see a thing, it’s pitch black in here.
-Well get your glow on, Dad. Do that On The First Day thing again.
That’s better. Oh.My.Me! What in heaven’s name have they done to you!?
-Yeah, it wasn’t pretty.
Oh mercy, you need a shower. Let’s get you back to normal.
-Dad, here on out, things aren’t gonna be very normal anymore.
Oh yeah, tomorrow’s Our big day.
-Yeah, everyone’s.
Here’s a new outfit. Mary will be here sooner than We think.
-Right, then all hell breaks loose, and you-know-who’s gonna be mad for all eternity.
Yeah, We fixed that. He’s toast. Literally.
-Okay, I’m up. Let’s get busy.
Aren’t you eggcited about tomorrow?!
-Daaaad!

And while you’re sitting there wondering how to spend the elapse of your final few living minutes, the ending world begs you for a soliloquy of your contribution. 8 minutes. All the time it takes for our Sun’s light and heat to cease reaching Earth, time ending to begin the dark unknown for some and the hope of all time for others. No time to scramble home for a last hug, a final fling or to get your affairs in order. Affairs are over. The only time standing between you and eternal rejoice or regret is 8 minutes of mirrored, solo reflection that will be no more when the light goes out. And I ask again, how will you spend your 8?