Is it Autumn or the Apocalypse?

Somewhere

"How's it like, living here?". Sublime.

Society? No, we don't have that! A wooden hut with a windmill are what makes us perpetual. Sometimes I ask myself where am I? I never know. Someplace between nowhere and somewhere!

It's getting cozier, maybe it's the weather, but the matter is, we have no weather. At night strange things happen. We get visitors, some are human. The sky? Light comes and goes, I don't know its source. I wonder where are the stars, then I remember we're the only ones here.

Autumn is near, my favorite season. Everything goes pale, brown, and warm; I get lost. It's really empty here; my hut and a distant cafe. A sad road leads there, soggy trees with falling leaves guide you with a heart. Faint yellow light beams inside, do I enter? A dull country piece of music is being played, vibing to the outside. How are the elderly inside feeling, if they existed, or even if the whole place is existing.

I wonder sometimes, how did I get here? It's really quiet. It's living with half a soul and a weak mind, taking care of my hut and calling it home. My mind is shattered, trying to collect the missing pieces. Is it a puzzle or a simulation? I feel like I've lived a thousand years here, but did I really live? Maybe I'm a survivor, the only one probably. And if someday I remember, I would know what really happened. Meanwhile, I'll listen to the song.

"Is it autumn or the apocalypse?". Both.