"Can you smell the rain?" she asked, thin fingers stroking at some stray hair. Nodding, I pushed lightly against the flywire door that led inside.

"Not like it used to be though."

Looking, she too nodded. I think she knew what was going through my head. I clutched her hand and squeezed quickly.

"Maybe they'll come back."

"Maybe."

We sat and listened to the rain, the traffic, the other noises of wet weather. But underneath the static of the rain and the other sounds there was something missing. There was a silence that no-one else seemed to notice. I glanced across and she had fallen asleep. I sat back, careful not to wake her and tapped slowly, but for once with sureity, at the keypad in front of me.

With time it began, and had begun that way for nearly two years. I'd use the excuse of writer's block, but it was more simply sadness. The words now came quickly and the report was done. Would they really come back? We'd tried, the figurative 'we'. The days since their departure had gone unchecked, at least by those you'd think would have noticed. We should have taken heed. Learnt from them. So much to offer, but we knew the answers already. Well, thought we did. There were a few though, like us, that wanted to teach ourselves, use their knowledge. I tapped the save key and uploaded my report, along with its attachment. I wasn't sure whether it would be enough. Even if just the two of us took the teachings to heart? That word again.

Maybe.

She stirred.

"It's finished?"

I smiled, "Only just started I hope."

Within moments the information would be relayed, bounced from servers to all continents. And then the beginning of the end.

"We should have noticed when they left, we really should."

"Why would anyone? They're only frogs. They're disappearing only shows that the poison is there."

I decided not to say anything. She finished for me.

"But still, they went. All of them. You'd think we'd have done something then. We've just killed so much."

I shook my head, then took her hand.

"It'll start soon."

And then, as if by some quirk of fate, the lights went out. The rain seemed to beat harder and before the strange thunder really began, there it was. Faint.

The croaking of a frog.