Reflections on a Beam of Light

People say you never forget where you were. It’s true. I was walking back from fencing class in college. The sky was clear, untroubled. It wasn’t until I called my mother and she said, “They’re gone,” that the terrible wrenching unreality of the whole thing became as crystalline as that autumn sky.

There was a reason no jet trails marred the arc of Ymir’s skull.

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