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"What's that?" Ray pointed to the brick building and tugged at Marla's sleeve. Marla tucked Ray's outsider around her neck, tucked in a few rust-colored curls and tightened her goggle straps and air filter. "What's what, hon? Can you be more specific?" "The rectangles," Ray pressed her lips together and her eyebrows pulled into a straight line of concentration. "See, the lighter brick, and those little ledges under them." "Those are where the windows were," Marla said. She checked Ray's outsider again. "Someone bricked them up after The Event. See the little fan? Someone has a home behind those bricks." "What are window?" "Remember how I told you about your name?" "In the days before The Event, dark clouds filled with water until they burst open and sprinkled the earth." Ray looked up at the grey sky. "The water that poured down was so pure, you could dance in it, you could catch it on your tongue, tomato plants would drink it up, and corn would grow tall." Ray dramatized the story with sweeping arms. "When the clouds became exhausted, the sun burst through in warm, golden rays. That's me. Ray." "It's not a fairy tale," Marla said. "It was too long ago for you to remember, but not for me." She adjusted her own outsider and tugged at her respirator. "Before the bricks, glass filled the space. A window like that filled my bedroom with sunlight. The early morning rays refused to let me sleep. Birds rested on the ledges and sometimes I fed them bread crust from my mother's kitchen." "Tell me about birds again." Ray's eyes lit up like the stars that Marla knew were somewhere behind all the grey. Somewhere beyond Ray's memory.
I could keep going with this one. Perhaps a whole novel could find its way from behind the clouds. What do you think?