crumbling face, it too seemed to flake and crumple away like drying clay falling to pieces.  Walter’s hair blew in the breeze, and blew off his head like dandelion fluff in spring time. 

His preferred old style handheld microphone fell to the ground as the hand holding it ceased to exist, and soon the weight of his clothing brought all of it down in a billowing cloud of ash.

With the view suddenly unobstructed, Matt could see as all the people in the background were crumbling to dust, falling into heaps.  The thumping, sliding wall of sound made by dull impacts and clothes collapsing into piles filled the square with a noise that would never dull in the memory of Matt Kirk.  He was partially aware that Jason was sobbing in the background, huddled down into his chai...

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