Microfiction – On The Edge

We were on the front porch when it happened. And how fortunate we were to be living on the edge of a death zone. It was like being shot at and having the bullet drop at your feet because you were out of range. The eruption was massive, and I was born the very next week.

“Luck, you come on in the house now; it’s time to eat.”

Well, I have to go, Momma’s calling.

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