Write four lines of prose about: the grey.
Tried to get a new phone this morning. Lineup was too long for me to deal with, as I had a chiropractor appointment just before lunch. Was hoping to get there right when the phone store opened but apparently getting there ten minutes after opening is much, much too late.
I can't even blame the long weekend, as I'm pretty sure everybody in front of me was local.
Guess I'll try again... hmm. Maybe next Saturday?
Smoke was bad again today. Feeling pretty much done with it.
It, unfortunately, doesn't seem to be at all done with us.
They move in the twilight, features obscured by the encroaching darkness and their grey, hooded robes. Silent as death, they go about their grim business with delicate fingers and practiced ease. They are not bothered by the forest fire smoke that envelops the valley - they have made their peace with it.
And soon, so shall you and I... whether we wish to or not.