"Kha-kha-kha..." - The cough echoed through the dark cave.

Around, there was an impenetrable darkness, and only the hoarse sound, bouncing off the walls, filled the entire space. Cold drops of water dripped from the stalactites, slowly rolling down and, falling from the edge, landed on the damp, icy floor.

In this thick darkness, a single dim light flickered near one of the walls. The light came from an old gas lamp, beside which sat a man, intently writing something in a worn notebook.

He appeared to be about forty years old. His long, light chestnut-colored hair hung to his shoulders, carelessly tucked behind his ears. His eyes were the color of clear azure seas, and his gaze was piercing – as if it penetrated to the very essence, piercing through flesh and uncovering the secrets hidden in the soul. Dark bags from chronic sleep deprivation darkened under his eyes, and a large, torn scar ran from his lip to his left eye.

He wore a zippered leather jacket, worn but sturdy. The jacket was equipped with many pockets for various tools and small items and had an insulated layer inside for protection against the bone-chilling cold. Over it, he wore a black tactical vest made of durable material, with small first aid kits and items for extreme situations in the pockets.

Two meticulously cared-for daggers were strapped to his belt. In addition, there was a holster for a pistol, which lay nearby on the floor, ready for immediate use.

His hands were protected by fingerless gloves, and his legs were clad in army boots with high shafts, slightly worn but still reliable.

Not far from his right hand, there was a hiking backpack, with a battered shotgun resting on top of it.

The man paused, listening to the deep silence around him, and, ensuring that no one was nearby, returned to his notes. Under the dim light of the lamp, his pencil glided over the paper, leaving neat lines behind.

"That day... I will never forget it. July 20, 2026... Three days until the apocalypse."

"In the United States, in the District of Columbia, there was a powerful earthquake. According to seismologists, it reached seven points. There are reports of numerous casualties. Rescuers and volunteers are still digging through the rubble in search of survivors.

"And again, a disaster has occurred, and in the last couple of months, they've been happening more frequently. Hope it doesn’t affect us," - said the large man standing behind the bar.

He looked very imposing, and his face was always comically serious, especially in awkward situations. But don't judge a book by its cover: despite his strict appearance, he was very kind-hearted.

"Tell me about it. Just last month, there were nine such catastrophes around the world," - I added.

"At that time, I didn’t know that compared to what was about to happen, this was nothing."

The conversation took place in a sparsely populated bar, one of many in France. The atmosphere around was cozy and warm, everything made from warm-looking wood, carefully polished to a velvety smoothness, which added a sense of tranquility and safety. The soft lines of the wood, shimmering in warm honey and walnut tones, filled the space with a feeling of harmony and comfort.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

The dimmed light, reflecting off the wood’s surface, seemed to embrace the visitors, creating a sense of seclusion and peace.

The aroma of wood, light and unobtrusive, mixed with hints of coffee, spices, and wood smoke. Time seemed to stand still here, allowing one to forget the outside world for a moment.

Behind Claude – the man standing behind the counter, with natural wood rings on the bar, which seemed to preserve the history of the tree it was made from. Shelves held a huge assortment of alcohol and other beverages.

The television, which was talking about the latest earthquake, hung on the wall near the counter. It was large enough to watch from anywhere in the bar.

"Hey, Wilmar, how’s your romantic situation with that cutie? Maybe you've already managed to get her into bed, ha-ha-ha?" - Claude laughed, addressing me.

As soon as I thought about her, a trace of sadness appeared on my face.

"What’s with the face? Wilmar, everything okay?" - he asked, concerned.

"Unfortunately, no. It didn’t work out between us. We broke up, we had different views on the future," - I replied, lowering my gaze.

"Yeah, it happens. Want to tell me what happened?" - Claude said with a warm, sympathetic smile.

"Loretta dreams of building a career as a director, and I want to start a family. We couldn’t find a compromise, so we decided to part ways to not get in each other’s way," - I explained, feeling sad but also knowing we made the right decision.

"I’m sorry that you haven’t been able to start a family yet. It’s good that you decided to part ways in this situation, it was the right decision," - he said sympathetically.

"Thanks for the support, Claude. Although your words sounded a bit harsh, you’re right," - I answered.

At that moment, I took a glass of my favorite wine and drained it in one go. The wine was red, sometimes shimmering with a blue glow. This was due to the glowing berries of the shimmering vine from which it was made. Its taste was sweet, with hints of acidity. Each sip filled me with a pleasant warmth, distracting my mind from unpleasant thoughts.

With a quiet sigh of relief, I decided to let go of the feelings related to Loretta and move on.

I took another sip of wine and, after thinking for a moment, decided to change the topic.

"Hey, Claude, how’s your wife and daughter doing? Camille is in eighth grade now, right?" - I asked with curiosity, pouring myself more wine.

"That’s right, my daughter is in eighth grade now. She recently took first place in the physics olympiad," - he answered proudly. "So, we’re going to the water park she wanted to go to," - he finished and placed a new bottle of wine on the table since the last one was empty.

"She’s a smart one, with her brains she’s bound for a bright future," - I said with surprise, pouring myself from the new bottle. "What about Isabel?" - I asked.

"Here’s even better news. My wife is pregnant," - Claude exclaimed joyfully and smiled.

As soon as I heard this, I immediately choked and coughed. The reason was that it had been very difficult for Claude and Isabel to conceive a child. They had tried for ten years to have Camille, and the doctors had said that conceiving a second child was almost impossible.

"No way! What a news!" - I exclaimed in complete bewilderment, and a smile appeared on my face. "Brother, congratulations! I’m genuinely happy for you!" - I added, standing up and hugging him, patting my friend on the back.

"And how many months now?" - I asked as I sat back down.

"Already three months," - Claude answered, grinning proudly.

"Brother, such news calls for a drink!" - I said, pouring two glasses.

Claude didn’t mind, and when he sat down and took his glass, we clinked our glasses, and I said:

"To such wonderful news!" - I shouted, and we drank our glasses together.

The next hour was spent talking about various topics and debating whether it would be a boy or a girl. At one point, I pulled out my phone and checked the time.

"It’s already ten o’clock. Thanks for the company, Claude. I think I’ll head home now," - I said, standing up.

Getting up from behind the counter, I placed the payment for all the alcohol I had drunk on it.

"See you, Wilmar. Don’t forget to check in on your old friend sometime," - Claude said with a smile. "Can you make it home on your own?" - he added.

"Probably not, so I’ll call a taxi. See you later," - I said, heading to the exit.

Outside, it was very warm, and a cool breeze gently blew on my face.

"Ha-ha, vacation is almost over... I really don’t want to go back to work, but what can you do," - I said with a little sadness, pulling my phone and a pack of cigarettes from my pocket.

Calling a taxi, I took a cigarette from the pack, lit it, and began smoking. The taxi I had called arrived in five minutes. I got in and sank tiredly into the seat.

Watching the lights of the night city pass by, I thought about Loretta: her silky light hair, emerald eyes, slender body. Her sweet and caring nature. The smile with which she spoke about her dreams. As soon as the image of Loretta appeared in my mind, a crooked smile appeared on my face.

When we arrived, I paid the driver and stumbled towards my building. Climbing to my apartment and arriving home, despite the intoxication, I took a shower and then collapsed onto the bed, exhausted.

"Finally, this day is over. Now I can sleep," - I thought, and in the next moment, I fell into the soft embrace of sleep.