the sky fell

And there were two inches of mussed gray ice on the ground as you heard the sound of rocks thrown down the gutter. The roof of the house across the street flew into the air and seemed to hover before it drifted down and you realized it was actually falling when it came to rest on your own front stoop. Crash, bang.

It's not that anything ever changed around you. The same paper bag that came across your face whose crinkled brown surface you condemned for the flecks of dirt you thought you tasted as it passed and seemed only to indicate disintegration went softly to the floor and the next day you walked by it and thought of the family of ants that must be living in its corners. You slipped in the ice and when the salt pressed into your cheek you wondered if you'd seasoned the soup. The leaves finally dipped red.