My Prince | Fiction

J Petersen

For a minute we sat and we watched the starlings flit. There was more atmosphere than there were things to block the sky. It wasn’t beautiful. It was plain, so it was beautiful, the way a flour sack is beautiful, or a cloud. It was like the birds weren’t getting farther away or moving closer. It was like they were getting bigger and smaller, that’s it. We were by the...

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