Dust.

The skeletal city claws at the moon, its broken teeth scraping the bruised sky. A lone figure, a shadow etched in moonlight, slips through the rusted arteries of City 4. Dust whispers against cracked concrete, a song of forgotten things. The desert stretches, a vast canvas of silver and grey, swallowing the city’s dying light. Footprints vanish in the wind-swept sand, a fleeting memory beneath the indifferent stars. The moon hangs heavy, a silent tear in the inky blackness. A hollow echo in the heart, a yearning for something lost, something left behind in the dust and moonlight.