The Bubble

bubble

On an oppressively humid night, the air gave up. It was too much. The heat raged through, leaving little in its way. Grass baked bald, leaving green streaks stripped to brown. Life choked. The ground caved forward, folding over and over before giving way. Air took its last breath.

The fish survived. Their universe expanded with flowing oceans that sunk the earth. Never a gasp, word, or song passed their tight-lipped assurance. The world was new. The world was theirs. By the grace of slow gliding fins, the world was silent.

At the very bottom, a woman stared up. I read her thoughts like a book.

“How will we ever survive this?” Her thought was a bubble on a down turned page. I would have gasped, but the air had grown distant.

http://www.nytimes.com/aponline/2015/10/16/world/europe/ap-eu-iceland-arctic-summit.html

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12 thoughts on “The Bubble

  1. Pingback: The Bubble | Storied Under Friction

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