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During the Dust Bowl I wake up to hear my little brother coughing in the ever present darkness. Getting up, my bare feet sink into the carpet of dust that has built over the night, “Great, better get the broom later,” I mumbled to myself. “Jake?” I whispered. I walked to his bed, the layout of the house already ingrained in my memory since there never seems to be enough light coming in the house through the windows. Through my door, through the main room, turn right, and through the back door on the right. It used to be that Jake and I would share a room and this back room was storage, but once jake showed symptoms of being sick, the storage room was cleaned out and the small room became his so that he could get better. Shoving the dust out of the way, I opened his door and slipped through the small crack that I made. “Jake, are you alright?” I whispered.
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“Sam,” he broke into a fit of coughing, “Sam, is that yo