“Goddamnit, I did not hit her… I did not… hic!”.

Mark stumbled on the dimly lit sidewalk with an unsteady gait. If anyone saw Mark as he walked, they would immediately know he was completely drunk.

As Mark swayed back and forth on his way, numerous passersby gave him a disgusted look and gave a wide berth as he passed. It was understandable though; it was not that late in the evening to justify being that drunk, besides, Mark stank heavily of booze. Anyone who got within a meter of him could smell the nauseating aroma of cheap alcohol.

“Guh! Stupid girl and stupid bartender…”. Mark tripped for the umpteenth time since being thrown out of the local bar, before resuming his curses against what he thought was the reason for his misfortune.

Mark was your typical addict, always blaming someone else for his problems, always trying to rationalize his shortcomings as something other than what they truly were: human flaws.

Also, it wasn’t the first time Mark had gotten into trouble after having one too many drinks. On his defense though, today’s events were not entirely his fault.

Mark had started drinking early that day. After a hot day of intense manual labor, Mark did what he usually did: search for the nearest bar in order to get wasted before a new day started and the routine repeated itself.

Mark didn’t have too much going for him in his life, therefore he usually sought ways to numb the passage of time without thinking too much about where he was heading towards or why.

Mark liked to think that he was a man of simple tastes, a man who didn’t hope for too much and enjoyed the little things in life.

If Mark had food in his belly, a roof over his head and a nice beverage at the end of the day, he was content. Mark didn’t care if he got wasted every now and again, or if his habits were taxing on his body. It was nobody’s business how he spent his cash and his nights.

Of course, Mark chose to turn a blind eye to the impact such a lifestyle caused on those around him, and how much his ‘taste’ for alcohol had already cost him. Mark’s wife had left him some time ago taking his daughter away with her, but instead of trying to change his ways and turn a new leaf in his life, Mark simply accused his ex-wife of being too damn controlling, and ‘fondly’ called her a stuck-up bitch.

He did miss his little girl though, but there wasn’t much he could do. Her mother took her to another city and chances to visit were rare considering his job and how much money he actually had saved. Most of his salary was split in between his life expenses and the pension he made sure to send his daughter every month.

His drinking habits were also dismissively included in the ‘living expenses’ category, after all, everybody needs to have a little something to enjoy in life and get by, right? Nobody can go on without a single distraction. So what if his hobby was a little unhealthy? Mark thought he wasn’t doing anything illegal anyway so that was his business only.

Nonetheless, those facts were irrelevant for the present situation. A few minutes ago, Mark was sitting in the counter of a randomly chosen bar, enjoying his cheap whisky when he was approached by a girl asking if he was up for some fun.

She was a regular at the place and frequently would stop by to see if she found someone interested in her services.

The owner had a sort of understanding with some girls. They could look for clients in his place so long they didn’t cause any trouble. The girls got a safe place to do the ‘rounds’, and the owner attracted more customers by livening up the place. It was a win-win for both parties.

Mark was totally in favor of the proposal; however, he didn’t have enough to cover the girl’s asking price without tightening up his figurative belt the following days. After some back and forth trying to lower the amount, the girl got fed-up and turned around to leave in order to search for wealthier patrons.

Seeing he wasn’t able to make her compromise, Mark decided to agree to her price and simply cut off his drinking expenses for the following days. Danny held the girl’s arm to stop her from leaving, intending to make the deal when she suddenly pulled her arm forcefully and jumped back screaming that Mark had hit her.

Mark didn’t even get a chance to explain himself before the situation escalated. When the bartender saw the drunk Mark and the plain girl with a nice body, he didn’t think twice before he twisted Mark’s arm behind his back, and with another hand holding the collar of Mark’s shirt, the bartender kicked the door open and threw Mark outside.

Mark barely had time to process what was happening between the girl’s sudden scream and his inelegant drop to the concrete sidewalk. Mark’s reflexes were severely impaired by the alcohol content in his bloodstream, therefore, when landing, Mark hit his knee hard on the concrete floor and barely had time to shield his face with his hands, scratching them and drawing blood in the process.

“Go home and get sober pal!”

Mark could hear the voice of the bartender in the background together with the sound of the door closing up again just as he was reeling in from the pain on his knee and hands.

Mark laid there stupefied at how quickly things got out of hand, before an unbridled rage consumed him. He struggled to get up and was about to charge inside to demand justice when he remembered how huge and ripped the bartender actually was before wisely settling for flipping his middle finger towards the bar door and cursing the ‘damsel in distress’ under his breath in the most creative ways his muddled mind could imagine.

So here he was, bruised, angry and drunk, moving along the sidewalk, trying to decide if he had enough for the night or if he should seek another place to drink away the humiliation when his vision started shaking.

Mark shook his head trying to get rid of the dizziness when he realized it wasn’t his vision that was shaking, but the whole world instead.

Mark stood there in awe as he felt the increasingly strong vibrations and saw the buildings around him groaning in protest against the commotion.

Awe gave way to terror, as very soon Mark couldn’t even keep standing. He wondered briefly if he fell because of his weakened balance, when Mark realized people all around him were dropping to the floor.

The fear invoked by the situation very quickly washed away his intoxication and cleared his mind, but it did nothing to improve his situation or change the fact that he apparently couldn’t separate himself from the ground that night.

The whole process took a little bit more than 5 minutes and caused a lot of damage all around. When Mark finally managed to get up, he was shocked to find that about half the buildings on the street all around him had collapsed or were in a very perilous state.

Mark turned back and inwardly felt glad in his heart for the overreacting girl when he saw the bar he just left was in complete ruins. All around there were screams of pain and calls for help. There were cracks in the ground, smoke and dust in the air, and numerous light poles were bent or broken.

Mark was actually amazed to see that some of them were still emitting light, meaning that the power miraculously wasn’t cut when everything came crashing down. Mark looked left and right not quite sure what to do or who to help right now. Should he call the ambulance? Should he call the police? Was it safe to go inside the buildings to help anybody stuck in between the rubble?

Although his mind was less foggy and clearer after the shock and the dose of adrenaline, Mark’s thoughts were still a bit slow. The only thing he knew was that he was infinitely glad to alive and praised the prostitute that he had been cursing nonstop just now to high heavens for her timely intervention.

Mark felt he owed the girl, his lucky angel, for the intervention and was about to go back to the bar to check on her and help if he could, when he stopped himself staring dumbly into the horizon.

Mark lived in a port town in the east coast of the United States. Right now, from where he stood on the street, Mark could clearly see the rocky beach a few dozen meters away, and further away, the sealine he got used to see everyday from the day he was born in that same town he had pretty much never left.

However, the usual and calm back and forth of the waves was no more. Instead, in that dark but clear moonlit horizon Mark saw a wall. A huge block made of water was coming in his direction from the distance.

All thoughts of going to help the girl at the bar died in their infancy. Mark saw the unavoidable looming death approaching with a blank mind before it gave way to a single thought that bloomed from within the emptiness: “Fuck, I wish I could get one last drink”.