The warmth from Saskia's body abandoned her as quickly as the world had gotten old and everyone on earth had vanished. From the decay and dust she had been gone decades, but only hours ago she'd been teasing her father at the breakfast table. Even in the summer heat she shivered. The sun's rays were cold and the brilliant noon-hour was as dark to her as any night. It occurred to her that it must be a nightmare, perhaps she ought just to play along. Or maybe if she refused to the world would right itself. She thought hard of pink ponies trotting down the lane but none came. Then she took a run across the garden and jumped in an attempt to fly, she thumped onto the baked hard ground and began to cry - not because it hurt, but because there was a chance all this was real.