The following is perhaps my favorite scene in my new novel, Bob, the Right Hand of God:
Chet ran west along the grassy swathe of what used to be Sixth Avenue, seeking the grocery store where he usually shopped. He had seen it yesterday, and he needed to stock up on all the basics, not just food but toothpaste, soap, shaving cream.
Chest heaving, he neared the edge of what was left of Denver. The grocery store was gone. The prairie had advanced a few more blocks, wiping it out. He was trying to remember where the closest stores were in the eastern section of the city when the smell of salt and fish caught his attention.
He stopped and stared. The prairie looked blue like the ocean. Colorado had once been part of a great inland sea. Was the development company bringing it back?
He trotted to the edge of the expanse. Not a watery sea but a sea of blue flowers. Blue bees, metallic-blue wasps, and delicate blue butterflies flickered among blue geraniums, spiky blue lupines, sky-blue poppies, delphinium, columbines, forget-me-nots, periwinkles, deep blue hydrangea.
Awe carried him into the blue.
He tilted his head back and watched a flock of bluebirds limned against the pale blue evening sky.
A chill creeping up his legs brought his gaze back to earth. He stood in water up to his knees.
Shivering, he waded to shore.
Although he lingered by the sea until long after the sun had slipped behind the indigo mountains, he did not see another blue flower.
What if God decided to re-create the world and turn it into a galactic theme park for galactic tourists? What then?
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