The world's last gasp . . . in the whisper of the rain.

I awoke in my chair chilled, but not frightened. Cosmo, my only companion in the dusky room, slept on an over-stuffed pillow nearby. Staccato grunts suggested dreams disturbed him, too.

Rising gingerly, I stumbled around shadowy furniture to the distant window. I pulled the drapes and peered through the water-glazed pane. In the distance I saw blurred silhouettes of trees and bushes, but heard raindrops spatter the glass.

World's end would come with breaking dawn. This I sensed strongly. Like when my heart pounded moments before I saw her, my future soul mate, on the quad that spring day years ago. Or how intuitively I knew the exact moment my mother had her fatal stroke. "Mom died," I said before Dad could utter a word when he called.

I returned to my chair and sat quietly in the dark. Cosmo stirred, rose, and dragged his old body over. He leaped into my lap and licked my face.

"You know it, too, don't you?" I said quietly.

He responded by doing something novel. He licked my fingertips.

"Should we go upstairs and wake up Meg? She--she should be with us when it happens."

He slipped off my lap and trundled over to the staircase. There he waited until I arrived, then led the way upstairs. Together we padded into the bedroom.

Moonlight spilled through the window and streamed across the bed. Meg lay on her side cocooned in our duvet, her small face toward us. A smile sweetly touched her lips.

"I--I can't wake you, Hon," I whispered. "Dream on . . . about us."

Swiping his tail across the floor but once, Cosmo whimpered his consent to leave her thus.

I paused in the doorway to wipe away some tears and stare at my lovely wife.

I whispered, "I love you . . . so very much, Meg."

Cosmo and I crept down the stairs into the family room. I returned to the window, Cosmo at my heels.

* * *

We've stood watching patiently, the drumming rain steady, comforting.

Cosmo sits shivering against my left leg, his tail stiff and still.

"What are my boys doing?" asks the pajama-clad woman.

Seeing my Meg, I smile.

"Come quickly!" I throw wide my arms.

"Silly." She's smiling, too.

We hug as pink streaks appear above the dark treetops.

"Such a lovely rain," she coos. "It's singing softly . . . a lullaby."

"Yes--"

A ball too yellow, too wide . . . rises much too swiftly.