In my house, we have the jar. It’s become a sort of coming-of-age ceremony for my family. Only Abuela gets to decide if you’re ready for the jar. My cousin, Rico, didn’t get to see the jar’s inside until he was twenty-two. When I was fifteen, Abuela decided I was ready. And now, here I am, staring at it’s colorful red and copper outside as it rests upon the high kitchen cabinet. I sighed, grabbed a stepladder, and took it down.

The jar was cold and smooth to the touch. I ran my fingers over its zig-zagged patterns before thumbing off the clay top. I pulled out the tightly rolled up parchment paper and unrivaled its yellow silk ribbon. On the paper was a handwritten family recipe for gazpacho dating back more than six generations ago. A recipe I’ve memorized six years ago when I first saw it. I sighed, tucked it back into the jar, placed it back up on the cabinet, and left it to collect dust for another six years. I glanced at the clock. It was time to go check on Abuela.

“Hola Abuela.” I greeted as I set a plate of paella on her nightstand.

She didn’t turn to look at me or the food. Abuela kept staring at the ceiling. She stopped interacting with me a while ago, when she forgot who I was, who she was. I still remember the day the doctor diagnosed her with dementia. It’s been a long six years. The doctor doesn’t think she’s going to live much longer. There’s another house visit next week, maybe there’ll finally be some good news. “Make sure you eat it all.” I said as I closed the door behind me.

It’s quiet here. Just me and Abuela. Rico, Amy, Sofia, Luis, and all the others faded after she was diagnosed. I could see it in their eyes: they couldn’t stand seeing her like this.

Dammit.

And they think I could? Corbades! At least I had the pinche guts to stick around and take care of her.

I miss it. The nights we’d gather around the table, laughing, swapping stories. Then, all our attention would serve to Abuela as she carried gazpacho with its rich, savory scent wafting through the air.

No one’s made gazpacho since Abuela was diagnosed.

I took the jar back down. Maybe it was time for that to change.

The sun blazed vehemently over the horizon, the heat radiating off of it altogether too warm. It seemed intense, angry; waiting for something, but for what? The time was not right yet, but it was growing nearer with each breath on the earth.

The people had gone, withdrawn deep into their shelters in fear of what was to come, where they had remained for some time- much too long. It was likely that they had ceased to live altogether, so they had no reason to worry about the imminent future anymore. The shimmering inferno of the air drove away nearly all creatures; the sulfury smell burned into the nostrils of the few remaining animals. The trees had become husks, their leaves withered; curled fingers of a corpse that died clinging to life. All was quiet; all was still.

Except it wasn’t. In one small town, cut off from the outside world, two hearts remained beating. Two pairs of eyes were trained on the sun as it drew nearer to the earth they stood on, waiting for the inevitable end. Waiting for death.

Something drew them together that last day. As the blazing ball of fury in the sky raged and burned, the two emerged from their shelters and stared into its glory. Some invisible string wrapped around their hearts pulled them together, growing shorter as they wandered through the long-forgotten streets, both ending up in the remains of what used to be a park. Their eyes met from across the wasteland, shocked at the sight of another person. As if looking in a mirror, they approached.

Each one raised a hand in unison, as if confirming that the other was indeed real. At the contact of their skin, they let out a little sigh, and wordlessly made their way over to a small bench that perched in the middle of a ring of dead trees.

As the inevitable death of their planet grew nearer by the minute, they exchanged stories. Lives were shared; wishes spoken aloud, dreams that would never be achieved.

The heat became unbearable as they gazed into each others’ eyes. Green met brown as they laced their fingers together, nodding slowly.

The first boy sighed. “I wish we had more time.”

The other smiled sadly. “I know we don’t know each other, but I... I love you.”

They leaned forward and kissed longingly as the sun exploded.