Under the Storm Shield

A wide black dome rests open across the tile floor near the front door. I crouch low and walk underneath the dark curved canopy. It smells of cold sky-water. Above my head, thin metal ribs stretch outward like bones to hold the slick fabric tight. On my home planet, scouts pitch swift battle-tents when harsh storms fall, but this human shelter sits right on the floor without any ropes! I reach high and tap one silver wire with my knuckle. Ting! The whole black dome shivers, and outside drops of water slide down the cloth. It makes a very dry and quiet fortress.