On the road. Days greyer than the last. Scorched cities in the horizon. The ash in the air gave everything as far as the eye can see the appearance that of a charcoal panorama. Bone brittling cold. Snow commingled with soot.

You tread the road. A distant clattering of a shopping cart. There he was. The Man in the distance traveling with his son. Both shuffling through the ash along the blacktop in the gun metal light each their world entire. The Boy spots and points at you. They approached.