Sunday Six

Thick gray clouds clog the skies over an empty stretch of beach not far from the heart of the Roman Republic, spitting heavy drops of rain down on the woman standing at the edge of the rocky seashore.

Dark water from the churning sea laps over her bare feet, soaks the bottom of her long dress, but she barely spares a glance to it as her eyes stare off into the storm building on the horizon.

She tilts her head as thunder booms in the distance, steps up onto a small flat rock and turns back toward the sand. She clasps her hands in front of her and waits and waits and waits, until finally a pair of tiny figures appear on the other side of the shore, tiny specks that grow ever larger through the gloom.

It’s a man and a women, and she nods when they arrive, sweeps one hand out to the side, gestures at the air to her right.

Previous Sunday Six
November 13

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Author: TheFakeRedhead

A life-long college sports fan and forever bitter about the country's east coast biases, Kathryn, the Fake Redhead, graduated from the University of Arizona with a BA in Creative Writing, emphasis in poetry because she felt the fiction studies emphasis was too pretentious. She is currently helping other writers hone their craft while she pursues her dreams of becoming a published novelist.

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