I didn't move for a long time, well after the last carriage had disappeared into the horizon. I felt as though, if I moved, I would crack. I would crumble to the ground like shattered pottery - as hollow as I felt.

I was once art that you had crafted with your bare hands. Now I am just the membrance of our destruction.

I thought I would cry.

I didn't.

I couldn't. I just stood there, helpless. What could I do? I wanted to scream, to rage, to curse the sun and its stars for this horrid crime. I wanted to yell about how unjust this was, how unfair.

But I didn't. I just stood there, wishing I could turn back time.