She is always and wholly taken in. Taken in, for the forty-three thousandth time. Taken in; another floodgate open in the valley - water rushes in. Rocks and bits of stone from canyon walls grate against the floor of the valley, cutting great trenches and tearing masses, leaving visible scars in the earth.
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But it is the sand, nearly invisible in the rushing waters, that works with such quiet malice. Sand is coarse and wears you down. It leaves no visible trace, but makes the whole of valley smaller, leaves more room for the waters of the next great flood.
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She takes a long drag from a cigarette, tasting the sulfur of cheap matches. The smoke fills the canyon, pushes back the torrent of sand and rock and water.
.
Another drag, and the waters are gone.
