It rained earth this morning. Clumps of soil fell from clouds of rolling green fields. They drifted across the sun, heavy and full to bursting.
We had it easy here. In the mountains, they had boulders crashing through their houses, mudfalls burying them alive, pebbles making bullet holes in their windows.
The neighbours are putting metal on their roofs. I can hear the tap-tap-tap of their hammers. I don’t have the heart to tell it won’t matter, not if a rock drops at terminal velocity.
I suppose we all have our ways of coping with the impossible.
Word Count: 97
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