Until It Hits

Down 4th Ave. I walk. Snow falls from the sky as confetti. I turn left, then right, and head down an alley—a long, black tunnel. My sight extends only a few feet in front; my feet seem lost in dark matter. The breeze picks up, stirring the air. A light turns on, and then another… For a split second, my eyes adjust. And then I see a swarm of fireflies jetting toward me. Closer and closer. Each one filled with boiling glass. Swarming around me. Penetrating my flesh. Ignorance is only bliss until it hits.


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