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.