The Plain in Flames by Juan Rulfo

San Gabriel emerges from the fog damp from the morning dew. The night clouds slept above the town looking for warmth from the people. Now the sun is about to come out, and the fog slowly rises, rolling up its bedsheet, leaving white stripes on the rooftops. A gray mist, barely visible, rises from the trees and the wet soil, drawn upward by the clouds; but it vanishes immediately. And behind it the black smoke of the kitchens appears, smelling of burned oak, covering the sky with ashes.

Far away the hills are still in shadow.