fog...

You're sitting on the roof of a skyscraper, legs crossed, right at the edge, looking down, and next to you sits your older brother, his legs dangling over the edge, in black sweatpants, his thick black bangs covering his eyes, a butterfly knife in his hand with which he does all sorts of complicated tricks, and a can of beer in the other, also looking at the fog.
You look down, you see the first 40-50 floors of the skyscraper you live in, abandoned, but still beautiful, and below there is only garbage, a white fog that does not even move, somewhere below there are rare screams, people, sometimes monsters, sometimes gunshots or explosions, but at the right time there is just... silence, yes, literally dead silence, a reminder that there are so few people left in the world, and even fewer of them will soon become... your brother Ray quietly drinks beer, and looks down again, spitting into the fog.