The year was 2023, New York City was bustling with life. Amongst the thriving chaos stood a man, alone on the streets, no more remarkable than the rest.

Tom had a peculiar hobby: dabbing. Not the dance move, but a motion he'd perfected over the years, a unique gesticulation that was distinctly his own.

One day, as the world spun on its typical axis, Tom decided to do his dab - a normal day turned into anything but.

He dabbed. Immediately, the ground shuddered beneath him. It seemed as though the earth itself was trembling, echoing his motion.

People screamed, cars swerved, buildings swayed, and then, without warning, the world exploded into an iridescent chaos of colors and shattered debris.

Tom watched in horror as the only world he knew was ripped apart before him. Amidst the destruction, he stood still, a tear slipping down his cheek.

When the dust finally settled, Tom found himself still standing. But where once stood a city now lay a barren expanse of nothingness, etched with scars of the catastrophe.

Clarity crawled into Tom's mind - a sinking realization. The dab. His dab. It was his action that had set this chain reaction into motion.

He fell to his knees in the ash, grappling with the weight of his actions. His innocent, quirky dab had somehow decimated the earth.

Days turned into weeks, weeks to months. Tom wandered the desolate landscape, a ghost in a world that was no more. His guilt was his only companion.

He spent his days replaying the moment, trying to understand how something so harmless had become a trigger for such devastation.

Tom's dab, he surmised, must have set off some kind of cosmic chain reaction. He was no scientist, but this seemed the only explanation.

Gradually, Tom learned to survive in his new reality - scrounging for food, foraging for resources, and wrestling with the unforgiving loneliness of his existence.

Despite the remnants of civilization surrounding him, Tom was utterly alone. The effects of isolation steadily encroached upon his sanity.

By day, he buscied himself with survival. By night, haunted by the gravity of his actions, he was tortured by nightmares of the destruction and the lives lost.

Tom started marking the days, scratching tallies into the remnants of a fallen skyscraper, a testament to his continued survival and a testament to his guilt.

One day, he saw something on the horizon. Was it a mirage? His eyes, strained from the relentless sunlight, couldn't be trusted. Could it be another survivor?

As the figure approached, Tom realized he wasn't alone. Hope sparked in his heart. He was not the only one to have survived the cataclysm.

Tom ran towards the silhouette, relief flooding him. But as he neared, his heart dropped. He saw the familiar dab motion from the newcomer.

A chill ran down his spine. What if the newcomer's dab had the same destructive power as his? Fear replaced relief; hope replaced with terror.

He had two options: risk it all to stop the newcomer, or watch another world crumble. He chose to confront the uncertain future, praying his choice was right.

Tom reached the newcomer, quickly explaining the consequences of the dab. There was disbelief, then shock, and finally acceptance on the newcomer's face.

They were both survivors, intertwined by fate and by the inexplicable power of the dab, navigating through the remnants of a once-thriving world.

Together, they started to rebuild. Not from bricks and cement, but from hope and determination. In this barren world, they found companionship in each other.

They shared stories of the world they knew, and dreamt of a world they'd build. They knew the road was long, but they were ready to venture.

Together, they faced the desolate world, not with fear, but with determination. They had each other and a second chance to create a future.

Each day brought new challenges, but also new triumphs. They learned to live again, redefining what life would mean in the destructed earth.

As days turned into months and months into years, their new world slowly took shape. It was not a replica of their past, but a tribute to their survival.

No longer were they defined by the dab that destroyed, but rather by a dab that united them, a symbol of their resilience amidst the ruins.

They had lost a world, but found each other. They were the last men standing, the last symbol of humanity, and the last dabbers.

In the face of overwhelming loss, they found the strength within each other to persevere, to endure, to build anew.

The story of Tom and Sam became a testament to human spirit, a symbol of resilience. And the dab became a legend, a reminder of the day the earth shook.

Though the world they knew was gone, they found a new world in each other. They had survived, they had endured, they were the world.

The dab that had once shaken the earth no longer signified destruction. It was a symbol of survival, a beacon of new beginnings in a world reshaped by their resilience.

The world had changed, they had changed, and so did the dab. It was no longer a dance move, it was a symbol. A symbol of their survival, their resilience, and their indomitable spirit.