I like to remember her as she was in the early days (when there was still such a thing as "days"), before the Black fell. On certain nights, I still like to look at her picture in that little silver locket, and wonder at what exactly became of us; how we came to be here. And I'll tell you. Its the same story that most people have to tell. The only thing they can think of before they close their eyes to sleep.

We were in the park when it happened, enjoying a rare day together, away from the world. Sometimes, I wonder if the guilt of that day is what did her in. Guilt for being happy to be away from the kids; guilt for not protecting them from the worst possible fate; guilt for just not being there.

On the bridge, I turned and kissed her, and it was fireworks and explosions like the first time. I pulled back and opened my eyes to look at her, and she didn't have a care in the world. And off behind her, from the South, ignorant of the fact that it was just past noon, the Black was falling for the first time in history, and its unnatural chill let us know that it was no eclipse. Sometimes, I like to remember her at that exact moment, in those precious few seconds before the panic hit. Before she turned around and looked at me, and screamed "Oh God, the children!" Before the cold shot through us and we could see our breath, when the entire world was just us two.