The horizon line is a bloody slash, sky above a bruise. Mikey stops tugging at his sippy cup long enough to say, "Mommy, it's dusk."
I smile. "That's right, sweetie. It's getting dark."
"And the world is going away."
My husband chuckles, jingles keys. "Cute. I'll be back soon with pizza."
That was three hours ago, I think. The clocks went with the sunset. The lights are on, but the windows show only blackness. The cell, the landline, the Internet, all dead. And as he turns in his crib, I hear Mikey murmuring, "Going away, going away, going away …"
The Flock / With a Whimper by I Saw Lightning Fall
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