by Jack Lines

You’ll hear about the haze during your morning commute. The radio will choke with accounts of good folk who’d woken to find small orange specs on the ground, in every nook and cranny. You hadn’t noticed but there they’ll be, clung to your windscreen. That won’t worry you. Two squirts of fluid and a sweep of the wiper will put an end to them. You’ll wonder what all the fuss is about as will the radio presenter as he struggles to get a word in edgeways over a young protestor’s doomsday sermon. You’ll consider her the only doom bringer, trying to ruin your morning, as will the scientist they have on, a nice chap, as he explains how the dust was brought over in a storm from the east – nothing to worry about. You won’t worry. You’ll change the station. On the other side, they’ll be playing your favorite tune.