"You'd mistake the ash for snow if it weren't for the embers."
A pause. A nod. Then, "What happened?"
The two of us watch the ash float to the ground. It was like snow; it was almost heavenly; a bit like manna in the wilderness, or stardust fallen on a dark on a darkened soul. We watch, and I wait for his words to touch my ears. I turn in a circle. All I see, for miles around, are ashes. It was once hilly - now flat. There were once tall buildings - now leveled. There were once people - all gone.
Dench speaks.
"They thought it was a shooting star," he said; and as he lifts his hand and points, I imagine i can see it. A spark in the distance, a glitter of stardust in the evening sky. "A shooting star in the middle of the day." Dench lowers his hand; his head is tilted up and his eyes are closed. I look back up, and still I see the light. "They watched it. They took pictures. They made wishes.
"They should have been running." The spark became a flash, the flash a tiny flame. "The shooting star got a bit bigger. Still they were amazed. The news was reporting on it, and social media was exploding with pictures of this phenomenon, the closest recorded shooting star in history, and the only one visible by daylight." The flame grew. "NASA alerted the nation when the object entered the earth's atmosphere. It was, indeed, a star, and not a missile, or a falling satellite, or an alien spaceship."
I glance over at Dench, horrified, then look back up at what I first thought to be my overactive imagination. I can't speak, I can't move...and Dench can't see. His eyes remain stubbornly closed as he finishes his tale.
"As they watched, the star got closer and closer, and the people became scared. But no one expected it to hit the earth."
Just as the sun should be setting, the light expands. Dench opens his eyes and turns to me. A glare reflects off of his gaze; his mouth begins to open; we are consumed by the star.
And still, the stardust falls.
