Ashes

Walk out of the wreck.

  Look back,

    and I shake my head.

Why did they want me to come here?

I worry.

There is a reason I live in the wastelands.

It limits me.

I know.

  They said the rocks were moving because of the changes in temperature.

Notice the storm clouds forming,

  allow a few strikes of lightning.

Take a breath.

What are they thinking?

Brush the ashes from my shoulder,

 and I start to walk again.