An hour after eating lunch at my aunt’s, I rested on the divan furthest from the window, overlooking the city that kept only one towering building, 107 stories tall. Colors that illuminated the sky during dusk surrounded the building, pulsing like a heartbeat after a strenuous mid-afternoon jog. Clouds hastefully rolled in, saturating a light grey with spotted black.
It was around then that the clouds fluctuated, moving vertically, like an oscillating swell before the storm rushes onto shore. I watched a purple hue explode from the tip of the tall building, while it started swaying from left to right, right to left, continuing on a cycle that rewarded an awful ending.
With each sequence, the building tilted further, bending at the seventh floor, while the hundred stories above it gawped directly at the dirt that swirled around the building; then gazing into the clouds that oscillated deeper. Windows exploded on the seventh floor, and the building snapped, smashing into the ground, dissolving like broken glass turning to sand.
After that, the clouds rolled away.
Be The First To Comment