A grim future awaits us in this flash story of mine. Beware of the $ians, for they may snatch you up! Original photo can be found on wikimedia commons! 2065 Grandpa tells me that I was born ten years too late. I have no memory of what it was like before the world lost its way (though, he says that it had been riding I80 to Stupidville way before 2045). I frown as I gaze at his withered face. It looks serene in the candlelight. I sigh. The power outages have been getting worse. It’s been out for three days straight now. When I see his chest rise and fall, I close my eyes and sit down. Good. I wrestled his mask on just in time. I glance over at the window. He likes to call the deep, dark brown hue “the marriage between a hipster and a trashy sepia filter.” I have no idea what it means, but I always laugh because he likes my reaction. Sand begins to pelt against it. I rise and close the curtains. I’m sick of sand. It wasn’t this bad ten years ago. Resources were scarce then, and the onl