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The sun was shining the day it happened.

The survivors comment on it, still. They had expected storms with rolling thunder. Maybe some fog. A proper grey overcast sky to better suit the tone.

No, it was a perfect blue skies and fluffy white clouds day. Some of the clouds looked like bunnies, but people very rarely mention that.

They shake their heads about the inappropriateness of the weather and remark, almost always, that they never saw it coming.

But they were warned, well in advance. They were warned in bedtime whispers and colored chalk portents that languished unheeded on sidewalks, even without any rain to wash them away.

 

About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.

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