The world is ending

I'm having dinner with someone. While she's talking to me, I stop and look at her face. Each part of her face has its own personality. When she's happy, her eyes sparkle, and creases form on her nose in a certain way. When she's hurt, her eyes and nose try to move closer to one another. I wonder if I could decipher her emotions just by looking at her nose. All the time that we spent together, where was I looking? I realize I have been staring blankly for too long. I only hear the end of what she said, and I quickly form a remark based on that. 

"Sometimes, when I'm talking to you, it feels like I'm conversing with a robot." 

I do feel like a robot sometimes, like a boat in a river getting tossed around by the waves. Sometimes, no matter how hard I paddle, I have to submit to the waves. No matter how hard I try to preserve this moment, I will have to let it get washed away—the world is ending soon. 

A few days ago, two people dressed like saints from a long-forgotten religion entered my room. 

"You are in an interesting predicament," said one.
"And why is that?" I reply.
"The world is ending soon because of you. That's why we have only decided to tell you about it. What you do with that information is up to you," clarifies another. 

A moment of confusion. Words could not escape my mouth. Both of them make eye contact with me, give me a nod, and leave the room. I believe them. Deep down in my intuition, I know what I did, and they weren't bluffing when they said the world was ending. 

"I need to use the restroom," I say to her. 

I go do my business and walk back towards her. Tears start rolling down her cheeks. I look behind her, the world is crumbling. 

"You knew about it, and you didn't tell me," she says. 

From this point on, nothing I say matters. I close my eyes and think about the first time we made eye contact, the first time we made each other laugh, the first time we had an awkward moment, the first time we ate together, the first time we shared a secret, the first time we sat together in comfortable silence—all of that preserved in the museum of our memories will vanish without leaving a trace in this universe after a few seconds, no matter how hard I paddle. When I open my eyes, she's not there; she has been swallowed up by nothingness. And now my turn has come too. 

When we sleep, our consciousness leaves our body and wanders around the earth. No matter where it goes, it returns to the same body. But I wake up in a different body this time. I must have been reincarnated into a different reality. Everything I had in my previous life is gone; I must restart, do things differently to make sure I don't cause the end of the world again. Maybe this time, instead of just paddling hard, I can try to change the water that flows in the river.