Chaff in the Breeze.

The ground was groaning beneath our feet, the field of long grass, dead and gold under the splintered sky, swaying in an exhale of surrender from the heavens. We were rooted, no place to run fast enough, far enough, eyes reflecting a horizon swelling with light, clouds boiling red like open wounds from the west, as if the sun were setting into our Earth itself.

In a way, it was.

I reached out for a hand I could not comprehend enough to see, fingers interlocking, flesh against flesh for the last time as gravity began to pull our shuddering world apart.