A Slice of Fiction: Cicada Songs
By Bon_Steele on July 01, 2013
Overhead, the sky was a perfect cerulean shell. The sun threw sharp glints of light off the pool’s surface. The leaves on the large cottonwood lay like limp flags. There was no wind to speak of, no breath of coolness to be had. The cicadas buzzed overhead. Wichita Falls in August.
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