Fifty Words

Sam writes exactly fifty word stories Monday through Friday.

May 11

the comet

Every hundred fifty years I come for you in dashing gold and blue. Hello, I say, from my shroud of stars, raining light. Hello, you say, waving a handkerchief, white with lace, trimmed with tears. When I finally burst over the mountains frosting the horizon, we do not say goodbye.

Posted at 12:00am 62 notes

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    Love anything to...with outer space.
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