The Life of Lucas.

The world would soon end.

There was little left to do.

Lucas was in the kitchen grilling a grilled cheese, while listening to music. As a fresh tempo caught his ear, a desire sprung from within. He closed his eyes, letting rhythm control his body. Losing his sense of self, the colours behind his eyelids flourished. The song transformed his feelings from exhaustion to joy. He continued to dance, thinking.

Earlier in the evening, he had watched The Life of Chuck. His friend had dragged him. Other colleagues had given negative reviews, and the life-affirming trailer made Lucas queasy. Dragging his feet, as only he could, he went. It was the most thought-provoking movie he'd seen all year. After the showing, they'd walked out of the theatre in deep discussion not about what they thought of the movie, but rather deciphering what had even happened in the movie. What did it all mean? How did Chiwetel Ejiofor fit into all of it? It was unlike other post-movie discussions. It was more of a puzzle that still needed solving.

Lucas snapped back, opening his eyes, as he heard the cheese hit the griddle. That sweet sizzle was his cue. He grabbed the spatula and flipped the grilled cheese. The butter screamed and essence floated up to his nose. He tapped the spatula three times on the side of the pan.

Lucas and Chuck had experienced some similar influences. The first and most relatable aspect between the two was old movies. Chuck and his grandmother watched countless old movies together. They inspired Chuck's passion for dancing. Lucas had a similar experience, although with different company and different outcomes. He'd spent his childhood afternoons in solitude, with his eyes glued to the TCM channel. All he wanted to know was how these movies were made and why they were so mesmerizing. Where old movies had sent Chuck further into the ballroom, old movies had sent Lucas further into the cinema. In both instances, classic cinema had inspired and changed their lives.

Moonwalking across the linoleum floor, Lucas almost forgot to turn off the stove. That was until he smelled burning carbon and was reminded of his priority. After a final heel spin to complete the sequence, Lucas reached the stove and turned it off. He slipped the grilly off the griddle and onto a plastic cutting board. He waited. Patiently. The cheese had to set.

What's someone to do, if they know they're going to die? This is Chuck's biggest question. The solution, as far as Lucas could decipher, was that there really was nothing to do. Waiting, patience, was the important thing. Ejiofor's cosmic philosophy monologue explained that we are in the final hours of the final day of the cosmic calendar. Like the Tom Petty song says, the waiting is the hardest part. But unless you're a Buddhist monk atop the Himalayas, the option of just sitting and waiting for life to end is basically impossible.

Lucas had to do something. While he waited for the cosmic clock to run out, he needed a task. What he landed upon, after a summer vacation in Europe filled with too many impressionable books, was writing. The pen. The paper. It became his void filler. Between the realization that he was one day going to die and the day when that prophecy was fulfilled, Lucas chose to fill the in-between with ink.

Chuck had the revelation and he heard the bell toll, but his solution was not as cut and dry as Lucas's. Chuck was inspired by the Walt Whitman line, "I contain multitudes." These three words flipped and turned in Chuck's mind for his entire life. What Chuck concluded was not to be a staunch mathematician like his grandfather or as emotionally driven as his grandmother. Instead, he blended the two and what was created was an accountant with a passion for dance. Lucas inferred that, according to the filmmaker, life was not as black and white as a Turner Classic Movie. Instead, life was technicolour; it existed on a spectrum where nobody was all numbers and nobody was all emotion. It was the multitudes of life that interested Chuck and inspired Lucas to re-evaluate his stubborn way of thinking.

A pair of minutes had passed and the grilled cheese was ready. With a big knife and one swift motion, Lucas cut through the late-night snack, plated it, splattered some ketchup on the plate, and took the meal to the dining table. The grilled cheese was the same as it always was: warm, gooey, delicious. As he ate, the music continued to play and he felt his spine still swaying with the rhythm. There are few things he loved more than eating grilled cheese while doing a little happy dance. It was only after the food that reality once again struck him. Waiting in the sink were two days worth of dishes. He was a busy guy, or so he told the dishes when they looked at him with their grease-stained faces, little fruit flies buzzing above the wreckage. He tossed off his cardigan, turned up the music, put the water on warm, grabbed a battered sponge, squirted some blue Dawn, and got to business.

Having a movie in mind helped take his mind off the sludge. Lucas's psychological wanderings led him back to the most relatable moment in The Life of Chuck. It was hinted at in act two, but fully explained in act one. Chuck walks into the kitchen and sees his grandmother listening to the radio and stirring a pot of sauce. As she cooks, she dances. Chuck watches until she invites him to join and they dance together, not only creating a stronger bond but also affirming Chuck's passion for physical expression.

Lucas didn't dance anywhere else but the kitchen. He even remembered how, growing up, doing the dishes would often turn into an outrageous dance party. What started as a 10-minute chore turned into a 45-minute barn burner where the music was aggressively loud and the dancing was nothing short of obnoxious. Lucas's father would be in his chair trying to watch the nightly news, while a few feet away his mother and his brothers and their girlfriends would be tearing up a rug in the kitchen. The Egyptian. Dishes piled up. The sprinkler. Towel whips cracked. The lawn mower. Who poured the shots? It made the mundane work more bearable, but it also gave Lucas a further bond between himself and his family. It taught him the importance of humility, of letting himself go, of embracing the moment as a sacred time where self expression was not just allowed but encouraged.

The dishes were done. Lucas dried his hands, looked around the kitchen and decided that his work today was over. The clock neared midnight and his world was about to crumble. He turned the music off and stood in silence. Thirty-one great years had passed. He still had his health. He still had people that loved him. There was a lot to be grateful for. So, as he waited for the inevitable day which we all waited for, he took the moment to appreciate his life. Whether it was the life of Chuck or the life of Lucas, what mattered was making the most of each day, and accepting the wonder and the multitudes of the world.