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Weekly Contest #188
I could tell by the way the sky was painted salmon and tangerine it would be a good day. “Storms a brewin,” Mac said, using the limp end of the coffee sock to lift the camping cook pot out of the embers. The coffee steamed. I bristled at her. “No it aint,” I growled. “Look it how pretty that sunnup is!” I pointed at the horizon beyond the distant ruins and square red bluffs - purple still this early in the morning. Mac looked, nodded, and milked the last of the coffee out of the coffee sock, whipping her hand back away f...
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