The Place the Sun Won’t Rise
Prompted Flash Fiction
A bright moon hangs in a dark blue sky and draws shadows twice life-size on the snow. Kevin’s eyes trace the roofline of Merna’s shed, the shadow of the furnace exhaust boiling its way east toward the notch in the hills where the sun won’t rise tomorrow.
Kevin’s phone says it’s December eighteenth. Three days to the winter solstice. Some people…