← NotTheGlobe
Gerald Fenwick had prepared for the eclipse for six months. He'd bought the special glasses in March. He'd read four articles about "totality" and could now use the word in casual conversation like a man who owned a boat. He'd set seventeen phone alarms, each with a different, increasingly urgent label: "ECLIPSE SOON," then "ECLIPSE SOONER," then, finally, at 2:14 PM, simply "NOW."
At 2:13 PM, Gerald stepped outside, glasses in hand, and looked up.
Then he remembered he'd left his phone inside, the one with the alarm, the one that would tell him the exact moment to look. So he went back in to get it.
Inside, he discovered his neighbor Doug had texted him a meme about the eclipse. He read it twice. It was about Bonnie Tyler. He laughed, a private, satisfied laugh, the laugh of a man who is About To See Something Amazing.
Then he texted Doug back: "lol good one."
Then he waited for Doug to respond, because leaving someone on read felt rude, and Gerald was, above all, not a rude man.
Doug responded with a thumbs up at 2:17 PM.
By the time Gerald walked back outside, glasses secure, chin tilted skyward with the confidence of a man who had earned this moment, the sun had returned to its usual, uneclipsed self, shining down with the smug, uninterrupted glow of something that had never once considered hiding.
"Huh," said Gerald, to no one.
His neighbor's dog looked at him. Gerald felt the dog had handled the whole thing better.
Gerald posted a photo of the empty, ordinary sky anyway. He captioned it: "What a moment. #totality #blessed."
It got a like. From Doug.