by • January 17, 2018 • Flash FictionComments (0)

Descending Cold Front

Armed with foreknowledge by the thermometer that hung outside her window, the cold still surprised her. Or the lack of heat. She turned that around in her head to keep herself distracted while walking the dog. The short jog provided the frost opportunity to begin crystallizing the top layer of any exposed flesh.

But soon she was focusing on the cold to keep the thoughts that idea produced at bay. It wasn’t the cold, but the absence of heat. Without an external source to renew it thermodynamic energy gradually disappeared until every system gave into entropy. Her, the city, the planet. Old men lying in their houses cocooned by the now empty rooms they kept closed.


Barely inside her home she picked up the phone before she got her gloves off. Dialing his number, her words nearly jumped out at the sound of his voice. “Hello, Dad?”

See the author’s published work here.
Image courtesy of Avaliani.

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