relief and disbelief

Signed, matted, framed, and hung.

The show was up and I was happy. Happy and exhausted. I think I even nodded off on the train back into town. It squealed and popped into place at the station, and I pulled my lightened luggage from an overhead compartment. I slung my bags over my shoulder and walked out, satisfied. I smiled at a security guard and he called out, “Have a nice evening,” as I passed. I spun around to answer, “Yes, sir!” I was looking forward to it.

I lifted my head to let the sunlight warm me. I wanted to soak in some fresh air. But when I opened my eyes I saw a smoky haze draped over everything. I quickened my pace down Barnaby and the dust got thicker. It smelled like bitter earth; like someone had lit a match. A big one. And as my mind began to piece together the idea of an explosion near Thallow Flats I ran.

I felt my hips collide with my bags at each stride. I covered my nose and mouth with my hand, but the smell only got stronger as I went farther into town. I looked down to keep the dust out of my eyes, and I caught a glimpse of a gold deplume. No way.

No way was there an explosion. No way was the sky filled with dust. And certainly no way was there gold sprinkling the ground!

I stood in shock at the end of Barnaby Boulevard.

The vacant lot sunk into the ground. It held in debris and dust like a bowl. Through the thick cloud I could see the mangled asphalt. Deep cracks that ran to the opposite side of the street. I swear I could make out figures clamoring around in the ruin. Grabbing handfuls of asphalt and shoving it into bags and pockets like it was some kind of precious treasure. Just beyond the greed and debris, the old Barnaby house laid in ruin.

Never before had my eyes tricked me so well. I refused to believe it. No way was this happening. I squeezed my eyes shut.

In the distance I could hear a siren rising. A bellowing battle cry. Mark! And without hesitation I ran into the cloud of smoke and dust and confusion. Towards the woods. Towards the studio.