Friday, February 28, 2014

100 Words a Day 559 La Pintura Negra 2/15

The dog sat, submerged in the sand. It did not remember how it had arrived at its present state. As a matter of fact, it could not remember anything before realizing it was buried in the sand. It looked around. The landscape was a featureless tan, except for two things. There was someone watching the dog. They made no move to help him; they simply stood and observed. Then there was something else the dog could not quite comprehend. It looked as though someone had managed to spill coffee in the air and it had left a dark stain there.

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