August 7, 1870
I won’t ever forget her face. I was running—running with more heart than I knew I had. But as I turned the corner in the park, I saw her. Her bright red dress appeared first, but it was her face that bore into my soul. Terror had enveloped it until her face wasn’t a face. It was an emotion.
As she got closer, she continued to shapeshift into something that made me weak in my knees. I had stopped running. Without looking up, I knew what I would see. There they were. The objects that had appeared this morning, far above in the sky. The “lucky meteors” were now very clearly not meteors.
It was over. We were done. I thought the red dress would be the last thing I ever saw.
That was my memory of The Day.
-CV
