Missing
Micro-Fiction
Published in
Feb 7, 2021
The sun is stuck. It hasn’t moved in days and the earth is dying. The trees are burnt to a crisp and my eyes haven’t known rest in three days. Perhaps if I close them, if I shut them tight enough, I’ll see the moon again.
The moon was covered in craters, pocketed with blemishes, but it was so beautiful.
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