Hong Wei's excited chatter died in his throat. "Oh...god"
Lin's hand flew to her mouth, her pupils dilating.
This was her world—the district where she'd grown up, worked, lived her entire life.
Erased like chalk from a board.
"My restaurant," Uncle Lin whispered, voice barely audible above the wind.
Gone. Everything they built, destroyed in hours.
Memories reduced to debris. Lives scattered like dust.
Movement in the ruins caught their attention. Rescue teams worked through collapsed structures, seeking survivors or recovering bodies for proper burial. Occasionally they emerged with stretchers bearing still forms covered in makeshift shrouds.
The human cost. Numbers become personal when you witness recovery.
A woman's wail echoed across the devastation as rescue workers carried out a small form from the rubble.
The sound cut through the air, reaching them despite the distance.
A Child. Always hardest to process.
