Flames rage through the streets. The sky is an ominous grey that occasionally flashes white as lightning streaks across the horizon. The air has a orange-tinted haze as I stride through the streets. My clothes are torn and ragged, and my hair blows in the wind. My left eye is ghostly white, and has a jagged scar running from my temple to my cheekbone. I sling a gun over my shoulder, and walk slowly into the distance when I suddenly stop.
My phone ran out of batteries.
I spring up onto my carpet as I unplug my headphones and plug my phone into the wall. After a few minutes, I will again be able to listen to Imagine Dragons' Radioactive once again, and continue my apocalyptic vision