In the living room, my roommate Z_____ is on the couch watching TV. Zee is one of those people who seems to take up a lot more space than the physical size of his body would seem to indicate. It’s as if his body extends a good 18 inches invisibly from himself in all directions, like he’s wearing one of those sumo wrestler novelty costumes, only perfectly transparent. In actuality he’s about 5’10” and stoutly built. His nationality gives him a sort of nut-brown complexion that women seem to either like or be afraid of. Not that that matters.
He’s my best friend, of course, and since meeting in college we’ve occupied the same general areas, so we’re pretty used to one another. I give him his space, and he gives me a pile of small bills and change to convert to his half of the bills every month. It’s a good system. Or at least it’s worked thus far.
The thing about Zee is that he always seems genuinely glad to see you. You’ll walk into a room and suddenly feel like the greatest person in the known universe because it’s easy to believe in his sincerity and he’s absolutely free with his affection.
But this morning he is frowning and doesn't look up when I enter. This registers as slightly odd but I don’t think too much of it. Everyone is entitled to an off day now and again. So I don’t attempt a flying elbow drop and instead go into the kitchen.
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The TV is up really loud and although I can understand the words being said, they don’t have any immediate meaning to me. I’m not really paying attention anyway. My mind is on more important things at the moment. I pour a big bowl of Cap'n Crunch and then milk after a quick check to make sure it’s neither sour nor lumpy. That is not a mistake I am eager to make again. I flip a spoon into the bowl and reach into the box, swirling my hand through the cereal until my fingers close on the crinkly plastic bag containing the prize. Then, humming to myself, I step out of the kitchen to see if my roommate has gotten over himself yet.
He hasn’t. I put down the bowl and toss the prize at him. Zee doesn’t move as it bounces down to the floor and completely fails to amuse anyone. This is very odd behavior. Curiouser and curiouser. I slide gracelessly onto the couch.
The images on the television look very similar to what Ape-head was watching a few minutes ago. It looks very dire and realistic whatever it is. A serious looking news reporter stands in the middle of a war zone or disaster area, people running all over the place and bits of debris either on fire or whipped up by some kind of terrible wind. In the distance, a bright orange sheet of flame has replaced the horizon, like a sunset gone horribly wrong.
"What's this?" I ask. I lean forward and pull my cereal onto my knees, taking a huge spoonful. A little milk drips down my chin and I wipe it off with the back of my spoon hand. I crunch like a cap’n, the reverberation in my head blocking out everything in my surroundings. After a moment I swallow and look at Zee expectantly.
He doesn't look away from the screen. "World's endin', innit?" He answers.
Zee is Pakistani but he grew up in London. I feel it is necessary at this point to explain that.