Brown Bird XXIII

We saw the birds first. Except they weren’t birds, they were shattered branches and bundles of debris screaming across the sky. I cried out for you, and you ran fast and hard. The roaring sound of the approaching train chasing close behind us. We dove into the bathtub and slammed the door. In the pitch black, I held you close, trying to calm you as you shook violently, as the ground shook beneath us, as the walls flexed and bowed, threatening to give way. My heart raced, and my hands shook.