Write four lines of prose that have something to do with: smoke.
Not especially looking forward to the market tomorrow, as it's Peach Fest weekend. With the big parade going down Main Street in Penticton, we're getting shuffled off to the side in a much smaller space than usual - which means no room for vehicles.
So we get to arrive in the morning, dump everything off the truck into our spot, then park elsewhere. Then do it all in reverse at the end of the day... though hopefully by then we'll have a whole lot less stuff to move around.
Anyway, between the big crowds and having fewer vendors around to compete with for said crowds business, it should be a good market.
My vision was obscured by the long-lingering smoke as I stumbled through the wreckage. I could have been about to walk off the edge of a cliff for all I knew. But I had to do something, go somewhere.
Remaining in the downed plane would have meant certain death.