It’s been ten days. Ten days since the Sun disappeared. I don’t suppose you could even call them ‘days’ anymore.

During those first few nights when you could still turn on the TV and get something other than static, reports had been flooding in from the various ‘professionals’ about what exactly had happened. Some said it was still there, but it was obstructed by some other celestial body. Others were a bit more dramatic and suggested a premature supernova. What all of them failed to talk about - was what would come next.

It got cold fast. A global Winter is what it’s called, and a lot of people didn’t survive the first couple nights of it. I don’t think most understood the gravity of the situation until the first reports came in of the oceans freezing over, and by then it was too late. It was bad enough to try and keep warm, but the worst of it was the darkness. Most of your waking hours were spent looking into a void, barely able to see past your nose. The only thing you could count on seeing was the stars, and they were a comfort for some.

I remember talking to a passerby one night, who said he used to be an astronomer, before everything happened. We talked about the constellations and how we wouldn’t mind being somewhere up there, very far away from here, in the warmth of another sun.

I remember how he let out this big sigh after a moment in thought. He told me that he didn’t recognise the stars anymore. He told me that when the Sun had disappeared, the Earth had lost its orbit. I remember how he told me as calmly as he could that our planet had been drifting deeper into space every night since. I remember looking up at those unfamiliar skies and almost passing out, as I felt the ground beneath me rushing away from my feet.