Sometimes I noticed the soot covering me. It turned everything filthy on Crowndon. We had to burn whatever we scrounged up for fuel. Between that and the factories, ash was a constant mist. The snow was full of it. When snow melted in my hands, it left trails of light skin.
Days were spent finding stuff to scrabble through the next day. Lucky ones worked in the factories. They had food most days and their windows were stuffed, keeping the wind out. Mam wasn't a lucky one. We stayed hungry and cold, but she taught me how to scrounge. She once found a tattered sweater. It hung over my scrawny body to my knees, flapping over my hands. It was perfect...