A man on the corner predicted the explosion of the sun.

No locals took heed, they went on their way as always, but he found a fleeting audience in the tourists of summer holidays. The sisters passed him every day on their way to the arena, but they never spoke of the man, never remarked on his premonitions. The elder was always in a separate world. She dreamed while she walked briskly in her legwarmers, and when the younger felt frightened of him and wanted to make a joke, she bit her tongue instead. Her sister would have spewed disdain like rainfall.

The real rainfall comes in the form of a million flaming asteroids.