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Summer

The tomatoes remain green. Stubborn. The sky sullen. Moss clogs the doormat. She longs for scorching stone underfoot, cypresses baking in the heat, the sizzle of cicadas. For the balm of salt sea.

Cath StaincliffeAuthor Cath StaincliffePosted on 6th August 20151st February 2018Categories Short For The Week

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