Muriel looked out to sea on a grey overcast day. Every day seemed like that now – grey and overcast – even when the sun was shining.
It had been four years since the invaders had come, and while there had been some resistance at first, the defenders were in the end overrun. No one had been prepared for the transformational powers of the occupiers. It seemed that there was nothing they could not become.
As she continued to look out at the horizon, a squadron of the alien craft zoomed by her.
“Damn you, you Origamians,” she cursed.