Thursday, December 15, 2016

100 Words a Day 969

The sun rose on the silent city, which was unmoving in the cold winter morning. The tall, narrow houses that lined the frozen river, creeping as close to bank as they were able, were covered in a light dusting of new snow, broken here and there by trails of hopping footprints from the ugly pigeons that inhabited the city’s rooftops. It wasn’t until the sun was well overhead that the stillness was broken by the sound of snow shovels, people clearing their sidewalks and driveways. It was followed by protesting car engines, grumbling when turned keys prodded them to life.

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