Four minutes to midnight

"Four minutes to midnight? We've been closer than that before, I fail to see the problem" I said, still trying to wake up as I got up from bed. My wife was sleeping so peacefully, so I left the room, trying not to wake her up.
"No, Owen, it's actually four minutes until midnight strikes upon us" Tom said on the phone. It still took me a couple of seconds to understand what he meant. It was not four minutes to midnight on the doomsday clock, but rather four minutes until we were all swept away by nuclear warfare. Midnight was here. Then he hung up, understandably. He was going to go say goodbye, maybe have a last snack, a last kiss, a last look at the faces of those he loved, a last commercial break on tv. The time was up, our time was over. Four minutes left.1

I walked back into the bedroom, my wife still sleeping. Her long brown hair had never looked as good, her face never as beautiful, her body never more peaceful. I leaned over her and gave her a kiss, a last kiss. With a smile on my face, I left the room, knowing I'd never return, never see her again. I walked into the room of my daughter instead. She was wide awake.2

"Your clock is wrong dad" she said. She looked tired, but she was smiling.
"Oh?" I asked, not following completely. I sad down by her side. Only six years old, never to see another birthday.
"I heard you on the phone, you said it was four minutes to midnight... But it's past midnight dad, long past" she said. I took my arm around her, and kissed her forhead.
"You're right honey, you're right" I said.3

"What's going on?" my wife asked as she walked into the room.
"We're both having trouble sleeping" I said. She walked over to us and sat down on the other side of our daughter.
"Listen" our daughter said. Everything was quiet. But then the room started shaking, everything started to move. And then there was darkness, midnight.