The moon was taking her nightly shower under the Great Shower Nozzle, writ large in stars just left of the Big Dipper.
She got that old Milky Way shampoo in her eyes, and started crying rain onto the pavement of a brisk night.
Pedestrians paired up like playing cards and ducked into steam-windowed cafes–umbrellas dripping, scarves damp–looking for a warm drink.
–Sarah Torribio
See more flash fiction by Sarah Torribio HERE
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