The world didn't break all at once, everything was subtle at first, and no humans were aware of what would happen.
Rain began in places where rain was expected, gentle at first, brushed aside by umbrellas and weather reports. Meteorologists spoke calmly, describing "persistent systems" and "atmospheric rivers." But those rivers in the sky didn't move on. They stayed. They fed the land until the ground could no longer drink.
Rivers swelled first. The Mississippi crept past its banks, then tore through them. Levees failed in the night, water rushing across farmland and into towns where sirens wailed too late. Fields vanished beneath brown waves. Highways became long, broken canals filled with overturned cars.
In Europe, the Rhine and the Danube spilled into cities that had trusted stone walls built centuries ago. Streets flooded knee-deep within hours. Basements filled. Power failed. Old cities learned how fragile history could be when water decided to reclaim it.
