If you watched closely, you could see it happening. The wind blew, the sand shifted, and the desert claimed another inch. Here, the few hardy shrubs that still clung to the soil seemed to tremble in fear. Further out, nothing but the dunes, rolling gently away and sparkling in the sun.
The little broom hung by the door, her weapon in the endless battle to keep the sand out. She had not wielded it in three days. The door stood open, and the sand poured in. She sat in the middle of the emptied house and waited for the desert.
Revenge Is a Dish Best Not Served in Oldboy
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