Caia went to pick up the stack of dishes, which only seemed to cluster when April dropped in for a night or two. This time she had brought everything in her possession, which consisted of a laptop and a yellow duffle bag that looked like it had been in a fight. Caia looked at her friend, she knew the questions, but didn’t want the answers–so she gave an arms length pat on the back, and a deep sigh, to convey her acceptance of the situation before them. She was moving in.
Dribbles of pink pigment ran down Aprils white t-shirt. “Is my tub pink?” asked Caia.
” It won’t be after I clean it… seriously Caia, check this out!” she said not taking her eyes off the burning images. “This is real life. Shit fell from the sky last night!”
Caia stopped starng at the light pink strands stuck to Aprils face, and looked up at the t.v. It was playing on a loop, an grainy video of hundreds of small bits burning their way towards our little mud ball. Caia reached for the remote on the coffee table, and her arm began to tremble. The rest of her body froze as it continued to quake, like the tail of a rattler.
Caia had been so transfixed on the movement, that she didn’t notice Aprils hand gently lowering her extended arm, with a concerned expression crinkling her pale face.