Hard Earth

Hard Earth

I walk over, following Russ' curious gaze to the ground. When someone watches something this intently, it’s hard not to join in. Now I’m looking down, too. Watching water trickle over brittle earth. Iced tea, to be accurate. The overflow of a church picnic.

Brown on brown, the liquid spreads. Like a virus across continents in some summer blockbuster virus-visualization. We wonder aloud at how far this small amount of liquid is spreading. We place bets as to where it will stop. In the end we leave, responsibilities calling us elsewhere. The drink is still spilling out.

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