I've always been a sentimental person. Even before all...this. I can remember finding joy in the smallest experiences. Things like the flight of butterflies or the feel of the grass under my feet. It all made sense to me, much more than the persistent ramblings of people.

Ah, people. Now there's a questionable species. We started out so innocent, I assume. Or, perhaps, we never really were innocent. Maybe we were a raging fire from the very beginning. Who knows. All that I know now is that people will soon cease to exist. To be honest, it's been a long time coming. Considering what we've done to the earth and to each other, I'm only surprised that this didn't happen sooner. Timing is everything, I suppose.

As I sit here, my feet dangling in the cool river, I can still remember the very day that it happened. It was a regular day. Men and women raced off to work, children left for school, and the world felt relatively calm. That feeling would soon become a distant memory.

Somewhere in the world (no one ever quite figured out the exact location), there was a man. A person. A person with a dark mind, and even darker intentions. He's the one behind all of this. This biological warfare, as it is known. That man started everything. Or maybe all this was bound to happen, and the man simply put it all into motion. I guess it doesn't really matter at this point. Mostly because everyone is infected. Well, almost everyone.
It's not like the movies, you know. There are no brain-eating zombies, no hero that comes in to save the day. Only one person with a bad idea, and people who suffer the consequences. I let out a sigh.

It wasn't so bad at first. The illness seemed like a routine bug that went around. But, as it progressed, people started dying. It became a major issue when the disease began to spread further across the globe. How it ever got across the mountains and oceans, I'll never know. All that I do know is that it was when they started rounding people up that mass hysteria broke out. The streets were packed, everyone trying to escape from reality. The world's governments had opened...facilities. Places to keep the infected until they either a) were cured or b) died.

They've taken just about everyone. They might even start turning on each other and put the officials in the facilities. Imagine what that would be like. Then they would be exposed to the horrors that the rest of us have become used to. Yes, you guessed right. I'm infected.

My wife and I were both infected during the later stages of the disease. They took Celia first. I let them take me so I could be with her again. It was a one in a million chance that I'd be put in the same facility as her. But I was. I suppose I'm just lucky that way. I let out a chuckle that quickly turns into a cough.

We escaped, you know. A whole bunch of us did. I'll never know how it happened, but it did. The last thing I remember is the guards pulling out their guns. Celia and I were the only ones that made it past the gates and into the forest. I can remember thinking 'Run to the forest, the guards won't follow the infected into the forest. If we make it into the forest, we're safe'. I was wrong. We may have escaped the guards, but we were still sick.

Celia died three days ago. I never cried so hard in my whole life. After my last tear was shed, I buried her. She deserved a proper service, but I couldn't give it to her. I did put some flowers that I found on her grave, though. I hope she likes wild flowers.

Today, I am ready. I'm not cautious, I'm not afraid. I feel at peace. I don't feel happy, but I feel done. I feel perfect just the way i am. But there's no use in feeling anymore. There's no one here to feel with me. Celia is not here to feel with me.

The disease will take me today. I don't know how I know, but I do. Maybe it's because my breathing has gotten shallow, or because my skin is so pale. Or perhaps it's God telling me that it's time to come home. Whatever the reason, I'm ready. Can you hear me, Celia?

The stars shine on me, and I can hear the waterfalls. I spare them a small but genuine smile. After all, I've always been a sentimental person.