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here It began on a Tuesday, and when it did, there was no forewarning. The day was no different from any of the other Tuesdays before it, except that maybe parts of the world were a little sunnier and other parts were a little rainier and some places were exactly in tune with the annual average. No weather records were shattered, no political leaders were assassinated. No new wars began and none were resolved. The world woke up, went to work and school and the park to play chess and feed the pigeons despite the signs saying not to.
It ended on a Tuesday too, oddly enough. Exactly one week, as though it had some sort of plan, some sort of schedule to adhere to instead of the chaos it really was. It began on a Tuesday and ended on a Tuesday, and Wednesday morning dawned, just another repetition in the perpetual cycle of sunrises and sunsets, as though nothing had happened. Those that saw the sunrise watched with trembling fingers and clenched jaws and a life’s worth of regret squashed down to seven days. Those that were there to see it, to see the splash of red streak across the sky in eerie tendrils of penitence, the sunrise felt like a cheap trinket, broken and worthless but worth so much more because of the memories that came with it. To those that had survived to see the first spark of light in a new sky, it meant the end was over and everything else was just a poorly timed gift.
Chapter One back to masterpost