Helicopters overhead, people screaming into the afternoon sky, which has become shrouded in dark clouds. I hear explosions and gunshots outside my house, and ragged shouting. Someone slammed a fist against our house door, rattling the fans and scaring both of our cats. I hold a baseball bat in my trembling hands, peeking through the blinds at the chaos outside.

Someone is holding a picture of Donald Trump up in the air in the streets out front of my house. The photo is expanded onto poster board and has strange, hand drawn words on it. With the lighting and the din, it is impossible to say what the person is even trying to communicate.

A gun shot shatters my concentration, and the man crumples to the ground.

His comrades appear on the scene, running up from behind the house across the street. The man with the gun panics, and turns sharply to escape attention.

Suddenly the sound of breaking glass draws my eye. Down the street at the empty lot, a group of protesters tear down a sign, and burn it. I don’t even think that the sign had anything to do with the conflict. I think they just wanted something to burn.

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Just kidding. Happy April Fools.