Microfiction Day 78 – “Grit”

It had rolled in overnight and now it was everywhere.

She turned out her pockets and it fell to the floor. It came in on the cat’s paws. It would lick them forlornly whilst throwing an accusatory glance her way. This is somehow your fault.

It had filled the plant pots and the flowers were dying, their petals pummelled and their roots repressed.

“Where is it coming from?” Neighbours would ask each other, shaking their heads and causing a plume to scatter at their feet.

The grit was all consuming, and it was showing no signs of letting up.


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