Charles swore. "We're not going to get everything done."

"It's alright," I said, but he cut me off before I could continue.

"I had today all planned out, and I got distracted and carried away," he said. "If we ran back, we could probably make it to the last couple of memories—"

He seemed guilty and angry at himself. It's at that moment that I realized the obvious: today was also Charles' last day with me. I had been thinking about this event all from my perspective that I never actually thought about how he was feeling, given how he's always been jokey and upbeat, only revealing sadness in small flickers.

"It's okay," I said. "My second last one is also by the beach."

"The same beach day?" he asked.

"Nah," I said. "It's actually kinda like your swords and axes memory, where it's not one specific one but a clumping of them."

I pointed out in the distance to where the pier used to be. The cement poles that supported the pier that were above water a couple hours back had sunk under the waves that were rushing in. We didn't have much time, so I made my story quick.

"Remember how we used to toss pennies from the pier," I said. "Wishing for something every single summer Saturday that we used to go here."

"I used to toss double the amount of coins," Charles said. "To double my luck. But thinking about it now, the coins probably cancelled each other out."

"Nah," I replied. "My wishes never came true, and I definitely followed the rules."

"What did you wish for?"

"It's kinda embarrassing, but I wished that I could become a Pokémon trainer," I said, and Charles began laughing. "Go ahead and laugh all you want, but it seemed cool to travel the world and fight and catch Pokémon. I wanted to be like Ash."

"It's funny because I had that exact same wish," he said. "I've re-watched all of the Pokémon movies a hundred times and re-watched the anime series too many times over."

"The movies suck though."

"They do," he said. "And I would not want to be Ash considering that he loses every single time."

"I'll be Red then," I said. "And you'll be Blue, and always lose to me."

"You know what," he said. "I'll be a better Blue, and maybe next week, I'll pop out randomly from the wild grass, and challenge you to a battle."

"Game on," I said. "Destiny is on my side."

"Well breaking destiny is on my side," he retorted with an (extremely) weak comeback, as we stared at the ocean before I turned back to him.

"You want to make a wish?"

"You have two coins?" he asked.

"Let me see," I said and searched through my backpack even though I knew that I didn't pack any coins because I never expected to use them. But in the deep crevices of one of my pockets, I felt a coin, and when I pulled it out, I saw that it was my lucky Canadian penny. I had found it on the streets somewhere and always kept it in my backpack for good luck.

I nearly put it right back into my backpack. I couldn't bear the idea of tossing away something that was as valuable to me as this tiny copper coin. But I had a vow to tell the truth, and I thought that maybe the penny may bring good fortunes to any wish that he made. Yeah, I know it's not real and that wishing coins are things that we do to make ourselves feel better, but I wasn't going to take any chances.

"Here," I said and gave away my penny, letting it go to Charles.

"Cool," he said and inspected it. "This looks different from a normal one. Is this from Canada?"

"Yeah," I said. "They stopped making them a while back. It's like the last of its kind."

"You sure you want me to toss it into the ocean?" he asked.

"It's a good luck coin," I said. "And you're going to need it for your trip. I'll just flip a seashell into the ocean. It's not even breaking the rules since I'm pretty sure some ancient society used these as currency."

We both stood there, staring at the ocean that was creeping back towards the land. After taking a deep breath, Charles tossed his penny into the ocean, and he looked at me as I stared at my shell, choosing what wish I should make.

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I wanted to wish for Charles and his family to stay here, so that he wouldn't have to go and risk death from blizzards or raiders or just plain starvation on the road. I wanted him to come tomorrow and tell me that he and his family changed their minds, and that they'll try to make the best of the situation here. I wanted to have another Tuesday where we'd talk about anything, where he'd come up with some ridiculous project for us to do, where I wouldn't have to face this dismal future by myself.

But I knew that what I was thinking about was selfish. If I wished for them to stay, he and his family would suffer as their food stores dwindled down to nothing, and they'd have to beg for scraps or worse, kill and loot others, to stave off starvation. I wouldn't be able to do a thing because Mom and Dad would put an iron lock on the pantry and his visits, and I'd be forced to watch my best friend shrivel into a skeletal, starving husk. Going would give them their best chance at survival, and I couldn't be the one to stop them from staying alive.

So I went the other route.

I wished for Charles to have a safe journey to his destination. I wished that he'd find plenty of gasoline on the road, and that starvation wouldn't be a concern. He'd hop into the car, drive through miles of empty, unobstructed highways, and reach his destination in a day or two. He wouldn't have to face raiders, wouldn't have to make tough moral choices, wouldn't have to sacrifice anything.

When he gets to the South, I wished that conditions were like what the rumors foretold. The weather there would be milder, the skies clear of ash year-round, food and gasoline abundant, electricity and the internet available so that he could watch anime all day. The last thing that I wished for was for him to not miss me. Maybe it's presumptuous to think that someone would feel that way, but if he does, I wish that he wouldn't feel that way. I don't want him to be miserable or leave the oasis. I don't want him to move on, but I know that it would be better for him.

So thinking all of that, I closed my eyes and tossed the seashell onto the beach.

"What did you wish for?" Charles asked.

"You're not supposed to tell anyone what you wished for," I said. "It's bad luck."

"Well I hope your wish comes true."

"It better," I said and turned away from the ocean. "You want to head back now? We probably don't want to get stuck in the tides."

"Let's just stay here and get drowned by the waves," he said sarcastically.

"Well I hope you can swim," I said and walked past him with an amused smile.

We walked away from the ocean and back the way that we came, as the crashing of the waves faded into the distance. As I was walking, I realized that I didn't feel nauseous from the scent of the sea or have flashbacks to those nightmares of everyone dying on the beach today. Everything felt good. I guess I did reclaim my memories of the beach, where the hours spent gazing at the tidepools and building sandcastles were all that I had associated with it.

When we walked past the kelp line that marked the boundary between the tides and the land, the sun was just a couple of minutes away from setting. Charles waved me over to a house with a broken-down car in front of it. He climbed the car and pulled himself onto the low-hanging roof before motioning me to follow him.

From the roof, we were able to get a less obstructed view of the sunset. We were awash in a golden light as the sky began transforming in front of us, the plain blues of the sky swirling into pinks and violets.

"We didn't get to your last two memories," I said. "Sorry about that. It must suck."

"My second to last one is actually right here."

"I don't recall ever climbing roofs ever in my life," I replied.

"I used to be afraid of heights," he said. "I definitely wouldn't have been able to climb up here."

"Really?" I said. "You always seem so fearless about everything."

"Thanks for that," he said. "But I was so afraid of heights that I'd be terrified of getting into those elevators with the glass bottoms. And sitting in the window seat of an airplane. I think I would've died right on the spot."

"So what changed?"

"Remember that dumb leadership camp that our parents coincidentally both signed us up for?"

"Oh, that one," I said. "They made us do so many embarrassing things."

"Yeah," he said. "You know the trust fall one—"

I remembered that one. We had to face each other, palms touching as we leaned into each other. Both of us walked on a tightrope that got farther apart the further down we moved. On top of that, we had to do this thirty or so feet above the ground, though we were latched to the safety rope, so there was no risk of falling and getting hurt. It seemed perfectly safe.

I nodded and looked at him. "You tried hiding from the camp counselors there, so that you wouldn't have to do it."

"My plan would've been successful," he said. "If you hadn't been looking at me and directing all their attention my way."

"Sorry," I replied. "Maybe I should've not paid attention to the fact that my only friend in the camp was acting super suspiciously."

"At that moment, I was really mad at you," Charles said. "Because they called me and you up and geared us up and sent us to the rope."

"You were about to cry, weren't you."

"No I wasn't," he said.

"Remember how we said that we wouldn't lie to each other today."

"Fine," he said. "Only a little bit. Anyways, back to the story. I remember standing up there, too afraid to look down because it'd feel like the forest floor would sink into the ground until I wouldn't be able to see the camp leaders' heads."

He continued, "We were standing there, palms touching each other, standing there unmoving because I couldn't go any more forwards. And then you gave me either the worst or best piece of advice I've ever gotten—"

"I told you to look down," I said. "Because everything was in your head, and that we weren't on the top of a skyscraper and that ground was closer than you'd expect. There was nothing to be worried about."

"And when I looked down, I understood what you meant," he said. "We weren't flying high in the sky but unexpectedly close to the ground. I didn't have to be scared of the fall."

"We got last place, though," I said. "But only who cares?"

"Considering that you brought it up, it seems like you definitely do care."

"Okay, fine," I said and then repeated Charles' earlier words. "Only a little bit."

He socked me in the arm gently, and we continued staring at the horizon. The sound of the ocean was getting louder, more urgent, and I could hear the faint screech of metal scraping against asphalt. But the sky remained serene, as bright oranges melted into yellows and ambers that burned with the brightest summers.