The last text was sent on a Thursday in November.

Contrary to popular belief, there was no “lol”. No “smh”.
No hashtag. No “facepalm”, “eyeroll”, or poop emoji.

It had been an unusually warm November, and so perhaps we think it might have been about the weather.
It was not.

Given the events unfolding at the time, perhaps we think it might have been about the news…
Significant events, whether foreign or domestic…
Expressing resolve, steadfastness, fear, or dismay…
It was not.

There’s an expectation that the last text would have been sent by someone “in the know” as a final statement of love,
A closing of a connection prior to eternal severance
To a lover…
A mother…
Or to a child…
And while many of the penultimate missives were indeed of this sort
The last one
Was not.

On that final moment
Of the final hour
Of the final day
Of our lives as they had been
Before oblivion,

The last text itself
was oblivious:
“Don’t forget the chips.”

There was no reply.