The smoke blocked out the sun almost entirely. It was night all day long.

You never really want to think about what it means for your world to change irrevocably. You never want to admit that this moment is never going to repeat again, that things will never be as good again. 

SMOKE BY JOSHUA FOUST 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 71

I had to stop riding my bike into work. It was one of the few pleasures in my life: riding down the …