Date: 9/26/2018
By EvenStranger
Walking through London. The sky is twilight purple, the light is sharp reddish like near sunset. The king is dead, the streets are filled with crowds mourning, talking, so many that it’s like a street fair. There are piles and piles of bouquets on the ground everywhere, so many that you can’t walk anywhere in a straight line. In the distance I can see a series of balloons climbing into the sky, and when I look harder I can see that they’re actually hot air balloons, an ongoing stream of them carrying people skyward.