Summer Solstice came and went.
They huddle beneath the gray skies
in cold drizzle.
Animals committed suicide
out of deep depression.
Photosynthesis was next to impossible.
Movement was only in super slow motion.
Eye contact avoided.
But when the summer sun finally appeared,
they bitched about the heat.
Such is summer in the Pacific Northwest.
This is a Flash Fiction Friday 55.
If you want to know what the hell that means visit g-man.
The challenge is on.
Or if you want yet another challenge write a Sunday 160.
Like a text message, the Sunday 160 only uses 160 characters (including spaces)
Keep on schedule - post Sunday
Let me know you have posted via a comment on my site
Visit at least one other Sunday 160