“Slow motion-nuclear explosion”

(To quoting myself)–my thought as a walked out of the YWCA this morning, and the most prominent thing in view is the plume of the power plant smokestack. Orange and pink and gold and all sorts of colors against the sunrise.
The plumes of stuff from all the smokestacks–power plants, paper mills, refineries, chemical plants–have, I imagine, the cumulative effect of a nuclear explosion.
Last night, Dorothea was upstairs talking on the phone to Beauty while Madeline and I made dinner and Liam was in a huff. When Dorothea finally came down–we were ready to eat–she said that she had bad news. Beauty had written a thank you note to Jack and Pauline, and Pauline had written her back saying she has lung cancer. It has been about two weeks since she found out.