I spent my last day alone in our garden. I wanted memories, colorful ones, and the chrysanthemums are wonderful this time of year. Please don’t be angry, love. I know you told me not to watch the blast, but I cannot look away. Sacrifice demands a witness, and sight seems like a fair price for such a vision. One gaudy, terrible flash, a new star muscles its way onto the scene—and a whole civilization dies in an instant. This is the stuff of epics. Is it not worth a lifetime of darkness to behold the awesome power of light?