• Jason D Geary


Clouds counted the seconds. If it wasn’t for those uniformly grey clouds blowing gently across the clearing he could have been forgiven for thinking time had stood still. Lying on his back in the lush grass he was willing it to do so.

He didn’t want to go back to the cabin. He didn’t want to hear their conversations. He didn’t want to be used as leverage.

He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. He held it in, opened his eyes and exhaled. Moments later the clouds above him parted revealing a small patch of the deepest blue that lay behind. The cloud mended its wound quickly, closing into a dull grey ceiling.

He furrowed his brow. No. It couldn’t be true.

He drew another breath and blew hard. In seconds the clouds parted and patched themselves again.

It was true.

Another breath, another blow. This time with a vigorous shake of his head, like a ten year old determined to get every candle on their birthday cake. The clouds break apart and scatter.

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