She missed the turn onto her street. It was understandable; not only was the street sign gone, but so was the house with the ghost in the attic and the convenience store where soda was only eighty-five cents and the tree she fell out of, breaking a tooth—all gone.
Standing where her mailbox should have been, she broke. In the street where she had learned to ride a bike—now filled with sludge and debris, reduced to a fourteen foot wide gutter—she couldn’t see stars. The storm clouds weren’t gone and the tears wouldn’t stop.