I’m not sure what time of the day it is. I have no watch, no phone. From the length of the shadows cast by the people in the crowd I guess it’s early. All of the crowd, every single one, look up to the sky, cell phones raised, taking pictures.
There are seagulls flying about haphazardly. A security van has its hazards on. Things aren’t right.
Curious, I walk across the street, navigating slow traffic.
A girl in uniform smiles.
What is it?
Where have you been, she says. Mars?
As the moon moves slowly down over the sun, I look right at it.
You can’t look at it directly, she says. You have to put your hand over your eyes.
I look at her.
I’m only saying what it said on the radio!
I ignore her and continue looking directly at what is left of the sun.
When I look away I see a trail of greens and reds and yellows.
Right now, she says. It looks like an engagement ring.
She reminds me of someone.
Suddenly, everything gets dark, cold.
Is this supposed to happen? I ask.
The Pugilist at Rest