Nulla dies sine linea. Four sentences every day. About whatever happened that day. Most of it's even true. Written by Scott Lee Williams
Wednesday, August 5, 2020
Wind
The storm must have stopped a few hours ago, because the streets are almost completely dry. Clouds shred and tumble across the blue, chased by strong, warm winds.
A couple who aren't wearing masks cross my path, he's squinting into the wind, her hair is blowing.
The wind is so strong, there's no way I could get sick, I think, but I adjust my mask anyway.
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