I wore all black: black pants, black shirt, black socks, black boots. Black is the color of mourning, the color of loss. On my ears sparkled little hearts. “Hate cannot drive out hate,” a wise man once said. Start with the details.
The sky cried. Water dripped down the windows from the depressed, grey sky. Grey is a lighter version of black.
My body bled, reminding me that I am a woman. I must be a woman. I must stand up for what I know is right. I owe it to my daughters and granddaughters and great-granddaughters. I owe it to everyone who cannot stand up for themselves.
Four boys wore red hats with white letters reading “Make America Great Again.” I wore all black. And the sky cried.