Nulla dies sine linea. Four sentences every day. About whatever happened that day. Most of it's even true. Written by Scott Lee Williams
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Wednesday, August 5, 2020
Wind
The storm must have stopped a few hours ago, because the streets are almost completely dry. Clouds shred and tumble across the blue, chased by strong, warm winds.
A couple who aren't wearing masks cross my path, he's squinting into the wind, her hair is blowing.
The wind is so strong, there's no way I could get sick, I think, but I adjust my mask anyway.
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