How Pandora Slipped Past the Junkyard

Hope slunk past the waste allotments in the dark, the stench awful, the dim carcasses of all humanity's trouble and woes piled high. Hope walked past, hands in pockets, head down, deep in thought over her own grief at the loss of a mother whose death only had been crueler and more wounding than her life. Hope stepped at last into the broad expanse, the piers and rough, rocky beach laid out before her, just in time to see the first orange welling of the hot filament of dawn.