firaa
The end of the century had come at last, and with it - death. Noone seemed to wander the dusty streets of LA anymore - even tumbleweeds had seemed to cease existence. There was no hope - no water. The sun was a pale red, towards the end of it's life - and with it, the life of the planet.
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centurydeathnoonewanderdustystreetsanymoretumbleweedsceaseexistencehopewatersunpaleredtowards