038 Touch
Plunk. Plunk. Plunk.
Each traveler pinged against the glass and settled on the bottom. Groaning, LH rubbed his head. At the bottom of what?
"We're inside an hourglass," Don murmured in astonishment.
"Guys, is it raining in here?" Renet asked looking up.
Leatherhead held out his hand, catching tiny grains in his palm. The dry grit and rough sand grinded against his skin unpleasantly.
"It's sand—the hourglass is filling."
Don placed his hands against the smooth, cold glass of their imprisonment.
"Filling up?! How are we gonna get out of here?" Renet asked. She grasped handfuls of sand desperately.