A golden yolk in the sapphire sky stretches its rays towards winter prairies. Ice glazes the branches of leafless trees that stick out their brown limbs like scarecrows, melting snow trickling down the wooden shards of bark. Sparrows chatter. 

What was that? It looked like it was the crack of dawn, peeking out through the horizon, but at the same time it acted like a vortex in the sky, leaking bright, piercing beams of white light. Everything was being dragged toward it, people, houses, trees.

The bell rings for the end of school: freedom for everyone.  Everyone except me, Andrew, and Jonathan who are stuck in the principal’s office for detention, cleaning up the nasty, wet floor.  “Ya know what, man,” Andrew says, stretching his back. “Let’s make a deal. Whoever can blow ze biggest bubble out of soap wins. Loser has to clean up.”