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Weekly Contest #99
The storm didn’t seem to end. Phile sat cross-legged on a table next to the window as she counted hailstones hitting the glass pane. One hundred and twenty-one, two, three. She used to count them in full. Now it took too long before the next one. She started with her fingers then the wall using a piece of chalk. Eventually, she found a pile of stones and counted those as well--all fifty-two of them plus three that rolled off the table. She’d gotten quite good at it. Every time she ran out of something to use, she would find another one a...
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