In This Drought

Deflated basketballsBefore, we blamed things on the rain: canceled parades, flooding and mudslides, flattened hair, postponed races, baseball games, our happiness. Now, in this drought, we stand in front of our windows watching the desiccated ground crack and lurch, praying
that the air conditioning unit will operate for another day.

We miss the rat-tat-tat of sprinklers, the pulsating drone lawn mowers, the whirring bicycle wheels, and the heartbeat thump of basketballs dashed across driveways turning slowly to concrete dust.

Our limbs are listless, as the air, largely invisible before, surrounds us, an
invading army.

Fighting never looked so much like defeat.

 

Tommy Dean lives in Indiana with his wife and two children. He is the editor at Fractured Lit. His stories have been included in Best Microfiction 2019 and 2020. Find him @TommyDeanWriter on Twitter.

 

Photo Credit: Timm Suess

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