When he rose, he gave no glance at the still and silent forms on the benches, but, going to a fountain, bathed his face; then hiding himself in a corner away from the drama of death, he quietly gripped himself and thought the thing through: The comet had swept the earth and this was the end. Was everybody dead? He must search and see.
He knew that he must steady himself and keep calm, or he would go insane. First he must go to a restaurant. He walked up Fifth Avenue to a famous hostelry and entered its gorgeous, ghost-haunted halls. He beat back the nausea, and, seizing a tray from dead hands, hurried into the street and ate ravenously, hiding to keep out the sights.
"Yesterday, they would not have served me," he whispered, as he forced the food down.
W.E.B. Du Bois, “The Comet” (1920), in which an African American man and a white woman are the only survivors of a cosmic disaster in New York.
Apparently Du Bois also wrote apocalyptic short fiction? That I only just discovered this feels like a personal failing.
Du Bois’s collection of short writing, Darkwater, which includes “The Comet,” can be found in its entirety thanks to Project Gutenberg. This link will take you right “The Comet”: