The Flaring Crash
microfiction--chronic illness can give and take in an instant.
Mia's mind ran wild and loud. She danced in her kitchen, not caring if the neighbours saw through the open window. Her arms slammed and beat and kneaded the dough on her countertop. Today was a good day. Nothing would stop her from baking and dancing. But it was only a half good day. Bread in the oven, luckily a timer was set, as Mia was on the floor, dragging herself to her walking frame.
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Something nasty in the shed
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