On smoke.

I hate the sepia sky, the Evangelion-ass sunsets. On Tuesday, sitting at my desk, I noticed the light suddenly change. That eerie orange glow, the cast of a flickering candle.

It was hard to tell what was going on, looking out the window between the buildings, so I walked over to my colleagues’ office to confirm. Is it weird out there, or is it me?

By Wednesday, a persistent gloom set in. It kept creeping in throughout the afternoon, dimmed the daylight to almost-dusk. I thought my son and I would go for a walk, but I could hardly even bring myself to look at what was happening. When I put him down to sleep, I moved the air purifier into his room.

What am I doing as the world burns around us? I went outside to water the garden, tried to ignore the taste of ash in my mouth.