Author's Notes

It's like the sky is falling apart. Layers of the atmosphere are drifting away into space. One day we won't be able to breath. The sun won't be so pretty anymore. It would only be a beautiful death sentence of horrendous pain. But our sky didn't want this. This hate was forced through it. There was one more thing standing in the way, to beat down on us when stepping into the light. Bombs. We're in the middle of a war. I guess you could call it World War III, but we have our own names for it. Although our safety has our focus, one other thing always steals it for the more urgent. Something reckless? Love. But that just one more obstacle in the battle for shade.