Prologue

It was a grey day. It had been a week of grey days. The world outside the limo reminded
him of an old photo, black and white and grey. It was so still. When had the city become so
colorless and quiet? He never noticed it changing. When had it happened?

Outside the limo the neon flashed, horns honked and street vendors shouted their wares.
New York hadn't changed, his perception had changed. The perception of his world, what
had been his world, was irrevocably altered.

Anger reddened Javier's eyes. Why could he not grieve like the others? But he knew why.
The responsibility was now his. He had to be the one strong enough to keep them all from
falling apart. He leaned back into the black leather seats and closed his eyes. But closing his
eyes only made it worse. Because every time he closed his eyes he could see that day, that
horrible day when all the color was taken from his world.