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who is left at the end of the world?

who do we blame?

By M.A.L.Published 3 years ago Updated 3 years ago 1 min read

The apocalypse wasn't as bad as she thought.

Not much had changed from her old life. She had always hated the heat of the sun and the prickle it would leave, so waiting on the clouds and the quiet it brought felt right.

This evening was different, she noticed something on the horizon. The sight of it sent a chill down her spine. It was a piece of cloth. She mustered her courage, tore it from the pole and wrapped it around her body.

Engulfed in the red white and blue fabric, she prayed for another cloudy day.

Microfiction

About the Creator

M.A.L.

If you're reading this, I'm rooting for you.

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