And that was only the tip!
It hung down from the copter-cloud: the massive cone of smoking snowdirt. All day to get it to the flatlands. Once we have the rest we’ll put it all together like flies nudging toy blocks.
The mountain we once joked about: moved.
When she returns from Singapore she will see I’m serious.
This story was written as part of 100-word flash fiction Friday. This week I made sure to stick to the 100-word limit.
If you liked this 100-word flash fiction story, maybe go ahead and check this one out too!