The day after the end of the world, Halos still smoldering like orphaned suns from the epic burn the Astros rained down up them. That ninth inning that leveled our playoff hopes, and then we tried to sleep it off, but just like the Angels players, as soon as we wiped the crust out of our eyes this morning, we realize they still have games left to play. The season is not over, at least not in the way that we think it is, as the poet Anton Chigurh might say.
The whole ordeal now had a fading glow to it, a fire going out.