The moon glows faintly as clouds grow over her like a mold.
Maybe the mist blinds her from watching us, and we are left with no mother, no accountability, no one to remind us we are a blemish in the face of the earth.
Still, I remind myself.
Maybe the moon is lost now.
The mist surrounds her and she becomes slow and confused.
But that's not possible.
The moon could never be...