Flash

Rain

Rain tapped on the tin roof in Morse code, urgent, indecipherable. She sat cradling tea and old regrets, watching the world blur into watercolor. Puddles held reflections of things long gone. Thunder rolled a lazy drumbeat. The storm didn’t cleanse her soul, but it reminded her she still had one.

***Faster than a speeding gummy, able to leap small buildings at a single bound Flash Fiction is a guaranteed page turner.

The preceding is satire. Straight up, Skippy. No warranties are expressed or implied. For life advice, try a professional. For investment tips, try a dart board. For salvation, the gentleman in the robe has been handling that portfolio for 2,000 years.