November 21 | Dan Nielsen

A thud woke Bud. He sat up in bed. Through parted curtains, he saw the tree across the street lying on its side. It was the largest in the neighborhood, maybe the entire town. Fallen, it was still taller than his house.
A crane truck arrived. Men harnessed in cages high above the ground worked with chainsaws. Bud gave up on sleep. Dump trucks formed a line. A steam shovel filled them, one by one, with limbs and lengths of trunk. Finally, with the first light of dawn, branches, twigs, and leaves were fed into a shredder.
By morning, no trace of the tree remained. From his upstairs bedroom, Bud saw, for the first time, blue sky, and rooftops blocks away. He remained in the same place, but it felt like another world. And that night there was a moon. The moon. Right outside his window.