The wind is rattling the windows again, digging its fingers into the cracks and trying to pry them open. We put boards across them and filled the rest with cement as best we could but the wind doesn't get tired - it's been doing this far too long to be stopped now.
The wind is howling at the door, tossing whatever it can find in the hopes that something might be strong enough to break it all down. I remember when it just mimicked somebody's knocking and tried to trick you instead of this brute force.
Not even the wind has patience anymore, too busy trying to get inside the house and inside our lungs to rob our last breath away to join it in the Great Gale out there. There was a time when it only took the dying gasps of the dead and we were all content with that.
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