It's nothing obvious, just these little details. Indicating that the world is ready to rip itself apart. The shadows are anxious; the walls crawl with terror and brush my sleeve as I walk past, whispering about time and stone and depth. When I touch them to make sure they're real, the paint comes off wet on my fingers. It tastes like honey.
The Disaster is like being at a picnic. Only what you think is the ground under your blanket is actually a trap door, and when the door opens you fall into your blanket and everything is a white and red checkered rush for the .7 seconds it takes until you hit the next layer down. It's amazing, the difference between things happening quickly and time just stretching out at night when you can't sleep.
Split your limbs up at the joints and put each segment in a safety deposit box. Make sure to hold the keys in your mouth. Once the wave passes, push all the boxes together and open all the doors combined. Walk out whole. Enjoy the view, in the crystal oasis after time is destroyed. It looks just like an uninhabited island, except the sun is floating in the middle of the bay instead of on the horizon. You don't have to go hungry. Just break off a little piece of that crystalline sky.