Defenestration

“Moon Pies and Dime Whistles,” by s. smith

The wind was a constant, a dry, gritty west wind that in winter ranted and wailed across the   prairie like a madwoman on roller skates. In the dead of summer it was almost always a sighing, an incoherent but incessant babble. There was madness, Mrs. R. thought, in that wind and in the empty horizon. [...]