A thick mist limited the sight in Millstreet. If one was to get out of their home on number 16, one wouldn’t be able to see past the house on number 20. But this was the usual state of things.
Millstreet, in the center of the small village of Grecom, wasn’t the only street clouded with a thick layer of mist. Every street, in every city of the entire county had been covered in mist for years. Most people had forgotten how long it had been since one had seen real rays of sunlight. Only the Alder people had a vague memory of a youth where sunlight and blue skies where the norm.
Though the mist made it hard to see, man could still be found on the streets. Often accompanied by their dogs, specially bred to guide one safely through the mist to their destination. When a dog wasn’t wanted, one could choose to buy one of the many special spectacles on the market. They claimed to make use of the latest technology, allowing one to be able to see through the mist. Often they came with extra navigational features. But those kinds of spectacles where expensive and didn’t provide the friendship and protection one got from a dog.
The cause of the mist had been forgotten by most. When man realized, they wouldn’t be able to reverse it, they stopped caring and started adapting as best as they could. For what else could they do?
A dog barked on the corner of Millstreet. An indication that someone familiar was nearby. Two people met and shook hands. Ms. Johnson from number 14 was on her way to work. Mr. Hall from Nursestreet number 15 wished her a good day. They nodded, smiled, and parted ways.
It was a usual early morning in Millstreet, Grecom, and soon more people would kiss their spouses and offspring goodbye, leave their homes and follow their dogs though the mist to their destinations.
Not realizing that every house on Millstreet would soon be nothing more than grey pile of smoking ash.