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Sometimes I wake up in the morning, blink against the blue light coming in the window, and forget for just a second that the rest of the world is dead.

When I was a kid, I read stories about how some of the best inventions and discoveries resulted from accidents. “Happy accidents,” my mom called them. I grew up hoping that one day I would be a scientist, and “accident” into something incredible. I achieved my goal—I’m not unhappy and it was something incredible.

Three months ago, I walked into my lab like I do every day, coffee in one hand, cell phone in the other, ready to work. An hour later, the entire lab went up in a puff of green smoke. I managed to make it to my safety bunker before the explosion went off, but by the time it was safe to emerge, the damage had been done.

I stayed in the bunker a month, waiting for my detector to tell me that it was safe to exit. When it still hadn’t gone off after a month and my food supplies were running low, I decided to take my chances and leave.

Everything outside looked as it ever had. My lab, except for the original explosion point, looked untouched. I could see cars in the parking lot outside.

The eeriness hit me when I stepped outside and realized everything was completely silent. No birds chirping, no cars running, no machine noises—nothing. Eventually I realized that I was the only human being left, at least within any discernable area.

That day, when I spilled my coffee into the solution I was working on, I accidentally caused the apocalypse.

Whoops.