Absent Placard Blues

You can see it burst in the clouds like a broken pen in water. The inky tendrils snake out and small stars flicker at their ends. He, of course, sits there in his replica Alpine cottage attempting to sketch it.
The news is still quiet about what exactly is going on but people aren’t stupid.
How many folk do you see out walking their dogs today?
It’s like the cold war.
The best way for everyone would be to know the truth. That’s all. Whatever will be will be. It was going to happen one day. And if it wasn’t some creeping, inter-dimensional puncture (my guess) then it would have been something else. Like an outbreak of pit-bull fever.
I know which I’d prefer.
We should think ourselves lucky that another dimension would want to punch through the fabric of space-time to conjoin with us anyway.
Something odd though; I’ve not seen a placard yet.


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