Small world. Big wind.

  As Orion began to improve, I took a turn for the worse.  My world has been very, very small for a couple of days and time went away. Two days of a wracking cough and the grey fuzz of medications, soup and reading and I'm somewhat better.  I was lucky to be able to rest straight through.  There have been times when that wasn't possible.  Colds go hard on me.  
Things got a little interesting these last few minutes.   The wind broke through the stillness we've had all day.  It picked up fast and we went outside to discover the air full of dust.  My first thoughts were of fire, but the smell was of the Salton Sea and a great deal of dust - enough to sting our eyes and turn the air brown.

This feels wrong, this wind coming from the east instead of through the mountain pass.  A cicada followed us in and seemed quite happy to hang out on my hand.  I enjoyed it for a little while but I may not be awake much longer so I put it outside in an open box.  It can fly away after the storm if it likes, or with the box if it gets much worse.  If I find it gone I'll wish it well.  If I find it dead I'll save it for art.
   Stories often start with weird weather.  As a long-time reader of fiction, I find tales in the wind.  As of late though, the weird weather brings questions instead and some worry.   Poppets tell me worry won't help.  Getting well will.  So I'm off to my books, broths and sleep, hoping the best for humans - and cicadas - tomorrow.