"I was five, small enough that the world still felt taller than me. I was in my backyard, playing over the sundried yellow grass the kind that crackles under bare feet staring across a yard that felt the size of a football field. The evening was warm and strangely quiet, like someone had turned the sound down. That’s when I saw it: a craft hovering above me, perfectly still, shiny, silver, and raw. There was no glow, no flicker, not even a sun reflection from where I stood. It made no sound, only a hush like held breath. I didn’t run or call out. I watched as it hung there, motionless."