"So, why are you hosting an 'End Of The World' party?"
She turns to me, cheap plastic cup in her hand the same colour as her perfect manicure. Her white-gold hair trails a sweet scent as it stirs the air. Her classically beautiful face twists in a way I somehow feel it isn't supposed to.
"Why?" she laughs, and I shiver. "Because, my pet, I am ending the world."
With that simple explanation, she returns to her previous conversation.