FICTION SHORT / SHORT: END CITY
The rain tore out of the sour green clouds. Everything was covered in a sheet of wet mud. Packs of people pushed from street to street. No one talked. This city had become a cracked gasket. Muffled words were sparingly tossed between bodies but covered by the splatter of the endless rain. No one looked up. Looking up was termination. Skyward was downward.
