She watched the news over breakfast. Overnight there had been movement over the southern continents which had led to threats of action. It was political. Images of the three leaders appeared briefly, and she could see her reflection where their dark suits spanned the screen. The steadiness of her hands reflected apathy more than resolve. She noticed she still needed to get dressed.
She watched the horizon as she travelled on the train. Imperceptible silhouettes of distant houses and factories divided the black skyline from the blacker ground until rapidly light began to grow from the fissure. It looked and felt like sunrise, though it was much too early. Things were suddenly beautiful. The sky glistened bright orange and pink, and seemed to absorb the ground with its radiance. She thought absent-mindedly that they would not have released the F20s.
She watched her eyes fill with blood. At first the spots were black and tiny and she thought to wave her hands so as to dispel insects, but found she could not move them. Momentarily the spots grew larger and redder, before clouding her vision completely so that everything was black. The pain did not dissipate when the pressure was released as both eyes burst, pouring an inconsistently textured mixture of blood and vitreous jelly down her cheeks. She couldn’t understand why no-one helped her, as she screamed into the carriage of mostly dead passengers.