(My Georgian homeboy Lance, the Lando Calrissian of bloggers, continues on with the 100 Word Songs, even as his metal buddy Leeroy is resting up at the Robot Hospital. [It's probably just a computer virus. *rimshot*] {Hopefully, Lance didn't send him to the droid repair shops on Cloud City.} This week's song is the Counting Crows' "Come Around", and this story is called "Wednesday Morning, 3AM.")
She was sitting on the curb. I could see her shoulders underneath the gauzy film of her nightgown. I was standing because I didn't know what else to do. She was shaking as she stared down at the charred remains of a photo album. There was a snowfall of burned flakes of paper on her lap and on the ground around her. She didn't even have shoes on. The lights lit up the neighborhood in a kaleidoscopic mess of red, blue, and white flashes.
"These are pieces of us," she said, "pieces of the people we have been."
What a chilling scene. You can picture it so well with the words you used. The loss, the devastation. That last line is so tragic
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