Four o' clock post meridiem

Like so many other days, it starts off the same. The sun comes up, the wind blows, the clouds soar overhead.

But extraordinary days are only ordinary for so long. This day is only ordinary until something unlike any other appears in the sky. What to call it? What to call them? The words you always hear just don’t seem to fit. Aliens aren’t real, but these are.

It does nothing but hover, and in response, we wait.

So much to learn, so much they will surely teach us.

And then a bright flash. Something shoots off towards the sun, and onlookers blink to clear the afterimage.

Eight minutes go by, another flash of light, and then they are gone.

Another eight, and then so is the Sun.

Eyes adjust. What it is to look at a night sky at four in the afternoon.

It suddenly seems colder.

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