Sometimes you need help from an astrophysicist, and that's when you're glad for Summer Ash (aka).
Summer came to my emotional rescue this week after I read this headline in the New York Times: "Kissing the Earth Goodbye in About 7.59 Billion Years."
Maybe it was the part about how, in the end, "there won't even be fragments." Maybe it was the part where the scientists say never mind the Himalayas. Maybe it was that I'd just read Cormac McCarthy's post-apocalyptic novel, The Road. Or maybe it's that we're reading The Little Prince at my house — and no matter what he says, you can't just up and quit your planet.
Whatever caused it, I had a case of existential suffocation. And I called on Summer Ash, who's used to dealing with our universe's cold infinities, to pull me out.