And you and I were the last man and woman on earth. You strolled over the fields, taking away the names of things, forgetting our language, and slowly, the world became less distinct. Our tongues lolled clumsily around in our mouths, losing its muscle tone. The snake slithered away and left us alone, no longer wanting to play, having long become bored with our constant indulgence, it was no longer arousing.

Soon, we lost our names, too. We knew each other by recognition, because there were no others, and by our loneliness. I began to shrink, and you were scared you would lose me, so you took my body and kept it under your ribs so I could not completely fade away. But soon you, too, began to shrink, and the vegetation disappeared and the animals. And then there was darkness.