For review purposes only. Not for distribution.
Up and down the block, cats pant, heat wavers off tar patches in the broiling alleyway. Miz Grace and Miz Vera bend, tending beds of drooping lupines.
Not a sign of my friends Liz or Rosemary, not a peep from my pal Jackie-Joyce.
I stare out over rooftops, past chimneys, into the way off distance. And that’s when I see it coming, clouds rolling in, gray clouds, bunched and bulging under a purple sky.
A creeper of hope circles ’round my bones. “Come on, rain!” I whisper.
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