“I cannot believe someone would through this out in the trash.” Mark Michael Davies pulled an object out of the dumpster with a reverence seldom seen in this world“What is it?” “You don't know?” Mark Michael Davies could hardly believe his ears.“I have no idea whatsoever.”“It's probably the single most valuable object you or I will ever set our eyes on.” Mark Michael Davies was clearly impressed with his find.“It looks like a snow globe. Is it something old? Is it a piece of art? Is it . . . something perverted?”“It is more valuable than the paltry conjurings of your imagination, Miss Lockridge.” Mark Michael Davies was having none of my silliness.“Is it maybe something you could explain?”“Tell me the name of the city we're in.” Mark Michael Davies was not above asking questions with obvious answers.“Bufallo, New York.”“Suggest a certain type of meteorological condition or pattern.” Mark Michael Davies was also not above asking questions that seemed fully irrelevant.“Snow. I guess.”“No take this in both hands and shake it gently.” Mark Michael Davies handed me the object.I took. I shook. Almost instantly my nose was tickled by a pair of snowflakes. I looked around. They were two among thousands danging toward the ground.“Buffalo, New York. Snow. Shake. Snow in Buffalo, York.” Mark Michael Davies loved to spell things out.I gasped. I dropped. The globe shattered against the ground. Suddenly the tickles became stings, as the snowflakes brushing against my face transformed into shards of glass, tearing at my flesh. Just a few. Among thousands, plunging toward the ground.
Ha! This is very clever, Nevets!