When next the sand began to flow, Adam was in the middle of a cheery green borough called Tunkhannock, not more than a quarter-hour away from home in Wilkes-Barre providing for traffic. This time, instead of a meager trickle the sand formed a terrifying cascade, blanketing the floor of the driver's side before Adam could even change lanes to pull off to the side of Main Street. He found almost immediately that the sand had piled up in such a way as to prevent him leveraging either the gas or brake pedals. At this realization, a cold sweat began to seep from his underarms and bristly neck. Finding a break in the traffic, he thoughtfully employed the parking break to slow the vehicle down enough to pull up to the curb, though he lost valuable seconds cruising forward to find a spot large enough to avoid parallel parking--a feat he wisely labeled impossible in light of the mounting sand. Once parked, he heaved his weight against the driver's-side door, flinging it wide and sending a deluge of sand onto the street. A recent rain had left the gutters streaming with trashy water, so much of the sand turned to a squelchy brown mire upon contact. Adam's shoe followed suit, sinking into the muck a good half-inch even as he beat a hasty escape from the car. This particular sidewalk wasn't terribly busy in this late morning, but Adam wasn't about to wait to be noticed. Trying to hide his hands and the very conspicuous sand falling from them beneath his windbreaker, he speedwalked into the nearest alleyway.

Though he was no expert on the subject of alleys, this one seemed rather nice by Adam's standards. While those of cities were often shrouded in darkness and danger, this one was open to the cloudy gray sky, casting light upon its bright red and deep burgundy bricks. It was also empty but for a few garbage containers, an external air conditioning unit for the boutique next door, and a truant-looking nineteen-year-old girl smoking a cigarette. Adam glanced at her disapprovingly, and for a second their eyes made contact. A faint look of suspicion crossed her face that intensified when she spotted her elder's sand stream; she shoved off the wall she was leaning against with a final puff and trundled out of the alley, hands stuffed in the pockets of her black-and-white striped hoodie. Adam was alone.

Honestly, he felt that he should be more afraid of what was happening to him than he was. It seemed like his subconscious was already accepting the freaky phenomenon as fact, though he couldn't get rid of a certain pervasive feeling of horror. Looking over his shoulder at the street, he shook his hands as if he could simple wave away the sand. Instead, history repeated itself: the sand floated in the air, defiant to the laws of physics, and began to mold itself into a new shape. As Adam watched, both fascinated and a little afraid, the sand formed the shape of a fluffy adolescent pigeon and flapped into the sky. It startled a trio of real pigeons from the boutique's roof and attempted to fly with them as they fled. Adam stared at the four birds, three flesh and one sediment, as they winged their way upward out of sight. It was a beautiful and consoling sight, giving him the notion that this 'curse' maybe wan't so bad after all. Almost instantly after his old eyes failed to see them anymore, a shapeless mass fell from the sky toward his position. He moved just in time to avoid being splattered by the falling sand, which instead burst upon the ground, scattering countless grains in all directions. Meanwhile, the unstoppable stream of and from his hands had ground to a half, though miniature dunes had formed all across the alley. "God works in mysterious ways," Adam breathed, and he turned back toward his car.

The teenager stood about ten feet behind him, cigarette fallen to the ground unheeded and mouth wide open in shock. Her hood had fallen off, and shoulder-length blonde hair stirred slightly in the Pennsylvania breeze. Her hands hung awkwardly by her sides, and her feet were positioned as if she were about to bolt in terror. As soon as Adam faced her, she took a few steps back.
"Whah...huh...wuh..?"
Adam was almost as scared as she was, but since no newfangled iPhone-thing was in sight, he guessed she wasn't about to call the cops on him. She wasn't that sort of person, he judged; this girl was a person who had seen a lot but told very little. Not an individual new to this strange, disturbing quirks of society--though this was probably more weirdness than she'd ever seen. A little persuasion and quick thinking and his secret may be safe with her.
"Pretty extraordinary, isn't it? I hardly believe it myself. But listen, please. My name is Adam, and I would owe you big time if you kept this between you and me. Not sure anyone would believe you anyway." He held his hands face up, devoid of sand, to show he had nothing to hide. "Please?"
The girl stumbled backward over a tiny dune and took off running. But she didn't scream.