It's the end, the very end. W. can hear voices. Go towards the light, that's what they're telling him. Meanwhile, he has the sensation of floating above his body. Has he died? Has the world ended? Is this the apocalypse, or not?
One day, not long from now, it'll just be me, him and a shopping trolley in the ash. One day, he and I, a shopping trolley and the road, the grey road under an ashen sky.
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