Flash Fiction

In the scorching heat that was now the norm, he thirsted. His lips were dry. His throat rasped when he tried to speak. So he didn't, anyway there was no one to speak to. The last person he had seen had been days ago.

In his head though, he talked. He held extensive conversations with everybody he had ever met. It kept him entertained while he waited.

Waited for what?

Tomorrow, the end, which ever came first? It didn't matter it was just waiting, but it took so long. He feared that it would never be his turn.