Briggette sat awkward on the edge of her deck, shaking, her hands planted firmly on her knees. She put a cigarette to her mouth, but hesitated. Her lower lip trembled on her dirt-smeared face as she tried to fathom what she was seeing. “Do you believe this shit?” she breathed.
Mona wasn’t quite ready to speak. She was sitting there too, staring into the rising Sun – at the smoke from fires which were even yet smouldering nearby. The only thing left behind them was a power line, crossing left to right across the view. Off in the distance on her right an explosion sent bright yellow flames into the sky – and the sounds of crackling flames split the early morning.
“What the hell happened?”
“I don’t know,” said Briggette. “It was loud. I was making coffee. The news was on.”
“Everything went black, then the flash.”
Mona shook her head slowly. “What the hell are we looking at?”
“That’s – ” Briggette paused, looking around – “east.”
“How can you tell?”
“I don’t know. The Sun.”
“And the Tower.”
The women gazed, slack-jawed at the decimation before them.
“There were houses there. A playground. I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it. Where did it all go? I mean, my home is gone.”
“I know. I know.”