I wake up with the taste of ash in my mouth and a pounding headache. 

Upon initial thought, I figured that I had most likely lost a kidney in an ill-fated attempt to finance my art school education via the black market. My body was on fire, and I felt, literally, like I had been run over by a bunch of Karens trying to get almond butter at Whole Foods half price.

Both of those options sounded better than the third option, which was currently me waking up in a hotel room in my underwear, not knowing how I'd gotten there in the first place or who I'd gone to bed with the night before.

"And today it's going to be sunny with a chance of showers later tonight! I hope you're having a wonderful day in New York and not getting stabbed and robbed, but if you are, that sucks for you! Hey, how about that big-ass meteor we dodged a few days ago, huh, folks?"

I bolt upright in bed when the radio goes off on the nearby nightstand and quickly scan the emerald-green room. A tray of breakfast pastries, muffins, and danishes, along with a pitcher of sweating orange juice, was left out, and the TV was mutedly playing an old episode of some obscure sitcom.

"Oh, James, it's only the end of the world!" 

"Cue obnoxious laugh track."

"Doloris, you are one dumb bitch!"

A torrent of memories surges forward with my headache, becoming so intense it feels like it could split my brain in two. I flinch, howling with pain, and my hands fly to either side of my skull, squeezing as tight as I can. 

I see Ender with eyes that know too much and have witnessed the horrors of the world. Tired eyes the color of stagnant pond water with something slithering around down there, staring deep into the depths of mine. He does not scream or flinch as I stand over him, because he knows what's coming and what needs to be done to ensure the survival of our race. 

I get out of bed calmly, take one look around the room, and realize that I'm totally alone.

Ender Calloway had fucking ditched me and tried to erase my memories. 

"I'm going to kill that Kurt Cobain-looking motherfucker!" I scream, and I bolt for the door in nothing but my big white underwear before tearing open the door. 

The sound of tourists happily making their way downstairs for breakfast fills the hallway until my tiny, dark, and enraged figure flings open the door. People scream and dive out of the way when I sprint past them, elbowing everyone aside in my rush to get downstairs. "Move!" I bellow, "I'm trying to find the guy I murdered last night!"

"Holy shit!" Someone shouts, "Who let this psycho loose?"

"Someone call the police! He says he killed someone!"

I take the stairs two by two and round the corner. Every step brings back another memory of spending my last night alive with Ender. The pink and orange hallway where we almost got torn apart while running from Skinhead and the porno nailed to the wall.

I remembered the city on fire in the distance and the deep feeling of loss, knowing that I'd never get another chance to have sunny-side-up eggs in the morning or hear a new song on the radio. All my blank canvases in my apartment would burn until nothing was left. That version of Hector had come to terms with his death and accepted it as inevitable, but I hadn't.

With my chest heaving from rapid, forceful breathing, I charge through the double doors into the dining room and throw my arms out. "Ender, you massive cock! I know you're in here!" I scream, "Where are you?"

The chatter in the room goes silent, and everyone turns to gawk at me.

There had to be at least fifty people stuffing themselves with crepes and Wheaties, but not one of them is that slut pirate, Ender, in his baseball cap and stained jacket. My face slowly starts to heat the longer I stand there like an idiot, unsure of what to do. It felt like having one of those nightmares where you're standing in your underwear in the middle of a crowded room and everyone's looking at you. Only this was the real deal. 

"Sorry!" I call and lift my hand in a wave. "I'm just looking for someone!" And with that, I slowly take a step back before bolting as soon as I'm out of sight. 

I try to put the pieces together as I sprint for the front counter.

I knew the world had almost ended last night and that the meteor had nearly turned humanity into an overcooked microwave dinner. But I didn't know if I'd actually killed Ender Calloway or if the meteor just so happened to narrowly miss hitting Earth, and I got lucky instead.

I slam chest-first into the counter and ring the tiny silver bell sitting out like a million times.

"Hello? Anyone there?" I shout. "I need some help! This is a goddamn emergency!"

The door squeaks open after a moment, and a tall figure appears, his eyes narrowing as soon as he sees me hammering his bell like crazy. He's wearing a blue vest, a white shirt with buttons and his bald head gleams under the lighting. "Can you stop ringing my bell, please?" He demands and snatches the bell right out from under my hand. "What seems to be the problem here, sir?"

Skinhead. 

All the words dry up in my mouth.

This was the same guy from last night who had threatened to eat my ass and had been wandering the woods naked and probably on like ten different types of drugs when I saw him. And now he was working at the Roxbury like nothing? It didn't make any sense to me, and I didn't actually want to ask him if he'd seen Ender Calloway leave the motel this morning, just in case he remembered everything from last night like I did. 

"Yeah, man. I just want to let you know... there's a massive shitsicle clogging the toilet upstairs in room 12," I tell him instead, and I slap the counter a couple of times and smile my best smile. "Good luck wrestling that one out of the pipes, buddy."

"Excuse me?" Skinhead shrills as I walk out of the motel. "Sir! You haven't paid for your room! You need to check out before you leave, or I'm calling the police!"

"Oh yeah?" I yell back at him without looking to make sure he's actually calling the police. "Call them! It's only the end of the world!"