Write four lines of prose about: the symbol.
Collected and delivered what I expect will be our final order of the year today, unless we manage to find a home for a few more of the apples that were left over at the end of the farmers markets. Managed to sell some of those walnuts I hauled out of our front yard to the local bakery, so that was a nice bonus.
No market tomorrow morning. Looking forward to sleeping in on a Saturday for the first time in a long time.
The significance was not immediately apparent to any of us. Strange, certainly. Disconcerting, absolutely.
But until every news station began reporting the story that night, each one of us could not have known that we were not the only one to wake with that strange symbol carved into our forehead.