A few short days remained until the gates fell. Scared whispers and impatient fidgeting filled the quiet hazy afternoon. It was as if anxiety crystallized into a single, tangible moment. Time ticked by and the whispers grew louder and the rustling intensified. But the air was still, like the calm before the storm. Memories of past joys and laughter momentarily overshadowed the encroaching dread. They were so real, as if one could escape into them, yet they vanished just as quickly. The final day arrived, like an impending storm. The intensity of the ringing became deafening. And then, nothing. Quiet.