“Twelve minutes.” He’d been obsessively checking his watch all day. Somewhere, over the horizon, and then some distance further out into space, was a rock the size of Key West, tumbling towards Earth.
“Okay, but twelve minutes until it hits the atmosphere, or twelve minutes until it hits? The guy on t.v. didn’t really give a straight—”
“Atmosphere. But I don’t think it’ll be long after that.” He looked at his watch again. Then, suddenly, compulsively, he stripped it from his wrist and threw it as hard as he could, off into the grass.
He sighed. “Not really.”