“The Great Conjunction!” The old crone stabbed a finger toward the dusk sky. “When single shine the planets’ kings, we’ll see the ending of all things!”

“Oh, nice,” I said. “That’ll be a nice change.”

“It’s the end of the world, boy!” A concerned look flitted across the crone’s face. “Doesn’t that worry you?”

“Lady,” I said, “I’ve lived through 5 years of 2020. We’ve had plagues, fires, hurricanes, climate catastrophes, Nazis on the streets, coups at home and abroad. I got nothing left to give.”

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