Skies.

The wind blows past her ears, the excess fabric of her borrowed shirt billows out under her arms. Tucking a strand of her corn blonde hair behind her ears, she knelt among the broken carnage of buildings, properties and pets.

The ground felt wet and gritty through the fabric of her jeans.

She picked up a diary, its cover battered and bruised. Half of the pages were torn and the remainder hung loose at its broken bindings. Pulling it close to her chest, a salty tear slipped past her eyelashes and fell awkwardly down her cheeks. It felt so inappropriate to cry, yet, there was every reason to.

The sky was a serene blue. Clear of the skittish clouds that usually dotted it, it held a solemn look. Like a young girl who, overnight, had been forced to age ten years, her newlyfound knowledge of suffering and sorrow displayed on her features.

'How was the sky last night?' The girl stared at the diary in her hands. The sky. It had always held an important position in her heart. For as long as she could remember, the sky had been magical realm to her. It held promises of secrets, whispered to her alone. Mysteries waiting for her to unravel. The stars were her guide and the sun her compass. Her sailor father had loved the sky too. And it was his love for the sky that inspired hers.

'Oh papa. I couldn't see the sky last night. It hid from me. Like a child who caught her sister being punished and cowers behind the wall but still not walking away because her feet were rooted to the ground.' she whispered, her fingers tightening their grip on the diary.

The hurricane had ripped through the village last night. The roofs flew off the walls, the people screamed and ran, and the foundations of her world fell.

A flash of white caught her eye. Turning, she saw the edge of an envelope under a ton of rubble. Brushing them aside, she unearthed a crisp, clean letter, the white of its envelope contrasting strongly against the gray background of destruction. She fingered the envelope, turning it to see if she could see who it was addressed to but instead she found a blank background.

'Hey Aria!' The sound of her name snapped her out of her reverie. Shoving the envelope into her pocket, she stood up. 'Yeah?'

'I..I uh..Don't know how to tell you this..' her best friend Jamaiya looked at her apologetically.

'I'm sorry.' Jamaiya whispered as Aria saw the faces of the corpses lying beside the African-American girl.

The faces of her parents.