Page 2 of If the World Was Ending

“In shock?” Colby finished for him. His blue-gray eyes got serious as they flew over Hunter’s body, searching for something. “Shit. If you’re in actual shock, you’d be cold. Do you feel cold? Do you want water? A blanket? Should I slap you?”

“Please don’t,” Hunter replied, panicked. “I’m fine. And also, Hunter. I’m Hunter. Hey.”

“Hey Hunter.” Colby stared at him, and Hunter had no idea what he was thinking, but he wished he did. “I work here.”

“I can tell.”

Colby nodded. “I mean not full-time. Or forever. I hope. I’m a musician.”

“I’m an actor,” Hunter said and paused. “Who waits tables.”

And then they both smiled. Because of course they were. That’s who everyone in Hollywood was—someone trying to do something other than what they were actually doing. Hunter laughed, it was nervous energy expelling itself from his six-foot frame. Colby grinned again, but his eyes still seemed concerned. “Are you okay? Seriously?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. How are you?”

“You know… The same as before the earthquake, so…” Colby shrugged. Then, after a moment of locking eyes again, he jerked his thumb to the door. “I guess I should go see how I can help. Store must be a mess.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

And then Colby, the musician, left.

Hunter stared at himself in the bathroom mirror before he left the restroom. Moments later, he made his way out of the messy store. He looked for Colby but didn’t see him. He walked directly home, which thankfully wasn’t far—two blocks east on Sunset, two blocks down Hayworth, just past Fountain. He was freaking out internally about encountering downed power lines or impending aftershocks, but all was fine. Los Angeles seemed to be carrying on like it was no big deal. Traffic was bustling, dogs were barking, the sun was shining, and a wind had started to move the palm trees. It was warm. Absurdly so.

His phone pinged as he unlocked the front door and surveyed the courtyard from their open-air hallway. A few potted plants in front of his downstairs neighbor’s door had tipped over, and the dollar store plastic No Diving sign that was usually hanging on the wrought iron fence was in the bottom of the deep end, but other than that, the old nineteen-fifties building seemed unfazed.

He stepped into his apartment, took off his shoes, and walked through the small space, checking for damage. Luckily, he and Leandra couldn’t afford expensive stuff like wall art, so nothing had crashed or broken in their place except the shampoo bottle, which had tumbled to the shower stall floor from its perch on the tiled nook in the wall. He picked it up, put it back where it belonged, and headed into the bedroom.

His phone pinged. He glanced at it as he reclined on the bed.

Leandra

Please say you felt that?

It hit him with a wave of panic that she was in Malibu and that she would be swallowed by a tsunami if this quake triggered one. Yeah, his anxiety was at level ten today.

Are you ok? Is the ocean calm? Should you drive inland?

Leandra

I’m fine. Working. Can’t drive anywhere. So you’re fine?

Yeah. I was at TJ’s when it hit. Thought I was gonna die.

Leandra

Did you remember to get salsa? The Authentica one?

Hunter blinked.

I got nothing. It hit before I could shop and it was chaos after.

Leandra

Hunter! We need groceries! I wanted salsa and stuff for fajitas. And we need oat milk.

Hunter sighed.

Can you pick it up on your way home?