“It’s so pretty!” Tina said, pointing at the orange dome blooming over the neighbors’ rooftops.
Her father pulled her off the swing and ran for the basement.
“I want to paint my room that color!” she said, pointing over his shoulder.
“Don’t look,” her father said, pressing her head to his chest.
“What is it, Daddy?” Tina said.
He stumbled over the quaking ground, trying to say, “It’s the Apocalypse,” but he stumbled over his words, too.
“The what-a lips?” she said.
“It doesn’t matter — “
Before he could say the words that did matter, the blast wave hit them.
Chip’s tiny fictions have appeared in Daily Science Fiction, The Drabble, 101 Fiction, 50-word stories, and Every Day Fiction. He can be found @chazzlepants, or lurking around a small architectural studio in Saint Louis, Missouri.