Dad says the gravity will hit us long before Wormwood physically does, and already the moon is cracking and reality is getting pushed and pulled and squeezed and twisted (like taffy, Mom explains, but I’ve never really had taffy because Mom always says it is bad for my teeth and I’m thinking instead when I used to stretch and pull different colors of modeling clay together and each color became a thin band, then many thin bands, then eventually blended all together into itself). That’s what’s happening now. Everything we know is getting all mixed together. Even time, because it’s all one thing with space, Dad says, and I said I know that already because I watch science on YouTube. Amelia Earhart was here last night but I missed her because I had already gone to bed and apparently there are still bedtimes at the end of the world, which sucks.