The sun should have set already but at midnight it hung in a blood-red sky like a harvest moon. All down the East Coast, people emerged from their homes, paused their everyday lives, and looked up like the horizon line might offer up answers. Are you seeing this? By the fifth day without darkness, people stopped looking up, installed thicker blinds, collectively shrugged their shoulders.
In California, under a golden-gray sky, another fire trailed after cars on the highway who press the gas like they are trying to outrun the flames, the clouds of smoke—but really the drivers just want to beat the typical five o’clock traffic on their commute, used to the smell of ash lingering on their clothes, in the back of their throat.
A team of scientists turned spinach leaves into beating human heart cells with pulsing red veins. What will the vegans eat? Podcasters joked when reporting on the phenomenon in a recording studio in New York while wearing matching dark shades. Listeners played the show while on their morning commutes under the perennial sun, resigned to the fact that, in this world, we will always have to eat things with hearts.
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