"So, what happened to the others?" asked the little green man.

"I killed them."

He raised his eyebrows at the woman across from him. "Why?"

Samantha pushed the plate off to the side of the table and leaned in on her arms. "One night, Hal decided that Bernie wasn't enough," she shrugged, "He advanced on me. I declined. He tried forcing it and I stabbed him. Then- well- Bernadette was distraught. She lost her mind, I guess. She came at me and I stabbed her too. I killed them both."

"Don't you feel bad about it?"

"I guess. I mean I felt pretty terrible over it at first, but then it just fell to the back of my mind. And now even when I do think about it, it doesn't really bother me. She always seemed so nice. Bernadette, I mean. She was the only one I was ever able to talk to about girl stuff. But by the time she was gone in the head. By the time they had all lost their minds it was said and done. It didn't matter anymore. They might as well have been zombies. Hollowed versions of themselves. As cliché as it all sounds, that's what it was."

"Still. Isn't it wrong? Doesn't it feel wrong?"

"The world's grey. It's not black and white. Especially with no one there to say what's what. What is wrong relative to nothing?"

The green man whistled at her. "So, what are your morals relative to?"

"Others?" she seemed to ask herself, "Others." Then she nodded.

"So, then the basis for what you deem right and wrong is what others think is such? So, without society you have no morals? You seem to throw the words around like they're trivial."

"Aren't they?" she asked.

"I don't know. I don't think these are things decided by community alone. Community righteousness is only the woven compromise. It's a broken system that way. But individual ethics and the code by which you and you alone live is what truly matters." This time he shrugged his little slim shoulders. "And seeing as there seem to be no other humans, you have not only your own right and wrong to deal with, but the compromise of society as well. You are the last. You are all now. So, what is to last in human nature beyond their population? Should you diverge down the path of things you'd thought were wrong prior to all of this? But who am I to say that? If you say that these things are relative to people in general, then why can they not also be subjective to you? I think it is for you to decide."

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"You're losing me. I don't understand what you mean."

"I think you do."

"If I'm hearing you properly, you're saying that I as the last of my kind am here to make a testament to my race in the last hours of who we are? You think that I should decide for the whole race because I am all of it?"

"Either that or you should succumb to all out chaos. But you don't seem to be ready for that sort of that thing. Chaos on the community level works because of the irrational decisions of many people, but chaos is impossible within a single person. How can you break any rules if there are none to be broken? And how can you lay down the laws if you are the only one to follow them? You are stuck. And so, you must nudge in either direction. Insanity or will. That's what I see you split at."

"This all seems a bit superfluous to me. What's the meaning?"

"What's the meaning? Really? Stop and think for a moment. Did you ever really know the meaning? Even before all of this? You could have always argued that it was irrelevant and relative to other things. I think it's funny how you people always give in on stout and dear philosophies when you're put in a hard spot." He scoffed at her. At least she thought it was a scoff. His mouth was oddly shaped, but the noise that came out of it sounded similar. "You just excuse yourselves to save yourselves."

"So wrong and right exist because we say it exists? And when no one's there to know the difference, it's gone."

"Or it was there all along and you found it. Then you lost it when it became acceptable to do so."

Samantha stood and huffed, rounding the table, and passed the funny little man with the plate in her hand. "I'm not going to sit here and be lectured by myself." She tossed the plate in the fridge and turned. When she turned the little man was sitting on the kitchen counter with his legs swinging like a child's.

"But I'm not yourself. When are you going to realize that I'm not some figment of your imagination?"

"And now I suppose you'll draw me into some philosophical debate about what's real and what's relative to being real."

"No."

"And you'd argue whatever side I'm not on just so that you can play your little mind games."

"No." He said.

"Well, I've something for you. It's all irrelevant when you think about it. When it comes right down to it, none of it matters. This little talk we had- well, nothing comes of it. What I can say is this: my family and friends are all dead."

The little green man looked over his shoulder and then back at her. "Were they delicious?"

In a moment she swung at him. Her body tilted forward and landed on top of the counter. Samantha slid and fell onto the floor, looking around wildly, but the little fellow was gone. "Where'd you go?"

No answer.

A wisp of hair fell in front of her face and she blew it away in a sigh. "Gone, huh?"

Still no answer.

"Alright, then I guess I'll be in my room if you need me."