You remember: a blurry red light darting across the sky; the glossy road and its skewed mirror of your tires; flashes of light into the eyes of a man in a hat, crossing the street. He remembers: two tons of steel collapsing from a rooftop, crushing his best friend flat. All that was left were two blue fingers and the smell of dust. The building remembers: the bones and bricks who made it strong, the lightning and rain licking its sides; burst out windows, a fire devouring from within like a disease. The fire remembers being the thing that burned.
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Title by: Jean Frances
Story by: Jeremy
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This is genius. Great job including so much info from so many POV’s with so few words.