Hills covered in white, he imagines a self defined by no one.
He dances, shovel raised, victorious memento.
He wishes the snow wouldn’t end.
Friday Flash Fiction |
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Shoveling snow, he relishes stillness. Flakes falling, ground blanketed in white, he’s reluctant to clear it. Snow renews one, buries darkness, grudges, criticisms from father’s mustache.
Hills covered in white, he imagines a self defined by no one. He dances, shovel raised, victorious memento. He wishes the snow wouldn’t end.
Kim Favors
20/10/2019 07:11:28 pm
Like this. I keep rereading with a different outcome each time. Comments are closed.
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"Classic"
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