When I was younger, I played little league baseball. On one particularly windy game, a dust devil formed on the first base line. Play paused while the kids gawked at the tiny tornado that joined our game. I kept moving towards first base, and enveloped the first-baseman who was unsure what to do. It kept moving towards second base, avoiding the grassy outfield. Now it was clear that play wouldn’t continue until the distraction was gone, and players stepped back to let it pass. It rounded second, and made its way towards third. We started to cheer the dust devil, on the verge of stealing third. Sadly, it dissipated before reaching third, tagged out by some strong breeze. Whenever I see a dust devil I remember that day, and that story.