He ran into the room, his heart pounding, and his clothes soaking wet. He was running west, towards worn mountains that once jutted out from the earth, but now were nothing more than mere hills amongst a flat landscape.
Flat feet were pounding against the earth raising a dust cloud that trailed behind him, covering his tall shadow in the late burning sun.
Running was the only thing he knew how to do. The cold air that nipped your nose and rosed your cheeks held nothing for him back East anymore.
Now, now he was just following the snow that swooped down from huge billowy clouds that hugged the old mountain, giving comfort to an old friend during his last dying days.
He was running, his heart pounding, his clothes soaking wet from his past, to those same clouds that hung over t