“A storm destroys your uncle’s shed and kills his six-year-old son. Describe the colour of the sky right before the storm hit”
When I think about when Danny died, I find myself remembering the sky on that day.
We were driving home before the storm hit. My brother was driving, and a Taylor Swift song was playing on the radio. I can’t remember which one exactly. But I do remember the sky. I was staring out the window at it as the clouds seemed at battle with themselves, each churning and enveloping its opponent.