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Weekly Contest #77
Lily stood, arms crossed, leaning against one of the many beams that lined the once grand veranda of her not-so-grand-anymore family home. The veranda wrapped itself around the old Federation style home, engulfing it like the land did the home itself. It was hot. A heavy, dry heat. The type of heat where you don’t sweat, or you do but it dries as quickly as it appears as a thin layer of salt on your skin. The type of heat where you feel permanently dirty. Lily had lost count of the day since it had rained in Nanima, New South Wales, where ...
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