9
Smoke waited out the sandstorm in the corner of the shelter he built.
He sat, back to the wall, legs pulled up against his chest, with a handkerchief over his mouth and a pair of goggles over his eyes.
The wind lashed at the shelter.
Fffp! Fffp! Ffffp!
The wind howled.
The wind roared.
He’d never heard anything like it in his life. It was like a tornado out there. And all the while, sand.
Sand everywhere.
Sand.
Sand.
Building up on the floor, like his shelter was a huge hourglass that someone tipped over. It started as a little pyramid, but it was almost up to his ankles now. Meanwhile, the dark brown sky outside flashed as striated whirlwinds passed over the settlement.
The sandstorm was a thunderstorm without rain, a rainstorm without water. The entire desert rumbled, shift
