Flood

It was grey. Not like a black and white photo or anything. It was grey for real. The sky, the streets, even the people seemed washed out. They trudged along, looking at their feet, each caught up in the thoughts in his own head and wandering aimlessly. They didn't even seem to see each other. They didn't notice when one among them fell or cried out. It was like every member of the crowd was alone on the street.

Only she saw, and only she saw what was coming from the East like a sun rise. There was color and brightness. There was warmth she sensed, but couldn't feel. It was coming. It was going to wash over this tired street and change it into something wonderful. All of the people were there in that brightness. All of them except her. It didn't make sense that she knew when she couldn't really see them yet, but it was just accepted. Just so. All of this misery would drown under the tide of what was coming and she would be all that was left of it. It was like a parade, but there was no one to watch it because the whole world was marching, singing and holding hands. People laughed and all the animals had gone feral and were running through the crowd without any sort of collar or harness or cage in sight. Every creature moving together in the same direction, but only her there to watch as it ebbed and flowed around her.

There were people she knew. They didn't see her. There were some she knew, but they had different faces or different names. Some she felt she should know, but didn't. Everything was new and bright, like that old guy on tv used to say heaven would be. They all laughed and sang and marched and forgot about the grey. Only she stood still and only she saw it all. The new kind of flood that washed away what was.