If he shook out his clothes, Coyote thought, and coughed all the dust and sand from his lungs, he’d bet he could bury them both up to their necks. And fill most of the apartment. He needed a cold shower and a clean bed, and socks that were more than a couple of holes barely held together, by the time he walked from where he was, to where he was going.

She’d stood in the doorway, too shocked by his arrival to let him in.

“Why would you walk all the way here?”

“To find some kind purity,” he answered.

Prompt courtesy of the Daily Post.


One thought on “Soil

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