Snow falls, lending an aura of peace to the desolation. I never thought that I'd see it again. Huge flakes coated the roof of the car, which lay in a ditch, covered in an immense drift of sand. I reached out with my tongue, and watched the snow gently pile against the faceplate. I took a rasping breath, listened to the air wheeze through the filters, and pulled my tongue back. There was no snow, only a gentle rain of ashes. I was a fool to have thought it was snow. How could there be?

And in the front seat of the car, a husk grinned at me through the glittering fragments of saf-t-glas.

The ashes continued to sift down, as I methodically plodded home, leaving leaded footprints in the dust, as regular as the ticks from the counter at my waist.

A cockroach scuttled accross my boot. And the moon wept a silent tear for its ruined lover.