This wasn’t really the apocalypse. It only looked like one.
This block of Calle Haiti, just a few blocks up the hill from my apartment, is usually a hive of activity at midday. But not last Monday.
The relative quiet was fleeting; during a period that lasted no more than 45 or 50 seconds, not a car passed by, not a soul strolled on either sidewalk, when this pack of dogs appeared from around a corner.
It was garbage day, and they were nonchalantly scoping out what lied ahead and what was left behind. A few seemed a little confused about the streets suddenly belonging to them, but that confusion too was brief, as they continued on confidently, crossing back and forth curb to curb. Until a car roared by. And then another. A few trailed off in a different direction. The apocalypse was over.