When this wind came in, we had to hide. But it happened too soon to go and close the door, the one that swung about and let the cold in. When you're cowering behind the furniture, in a fort you've made as quickly as you can, like being forced back into childhood out of necessity, you know that going out there, and not just outside the fort but around the whole house practically, is out of the question. It would be better with the door closed though. It would be warmer for one thing. We're hid in here against the wind, seeing just a slice of the grey skies moving outside, and having a door open goes against what we're doing. Sarah kept saying so, kept repeating it. That wasn't helpful and could get annoying. Still none of us went to shut that door. This was a wind that dropped into you and compressed your hope until there's wasn't anything useful inside. This wasn't just a drop in pressure, this was the world eating itself, and when you're just a passing flicker of something on the surface of a world that's eating itself, you don't feel safe. This was a wind that took away all the joy and ease that was there before. We were paralysed, not even able to help ourselves. Sitting there thirsty and cold, what were we supposed to do?