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Flash Fiction

Hot Spring

Blueberry skies were cooling down the sunset. Our bodies melting in a hot bath of boredom, noises of a cheap Chinese fan, and your favourite music on Spotify we’ve heard in the same sequence several days in a row.

‘You want to grab something to eat?’ You finally said.

I did not reply, not allowing my emotional eating to kick in.

‘I’ll be right back.’ You jumped up as if burned on the heated ground.

There is a number of things I dislike in the world – genocide, shitty politics and sunny days in spring like this one.

We hide in our little houses like lab rats. Scared to even talk to each other when we meet outside by an accident.

But no matter how many people will die, in a hundred of years there will be another hot spring.

By Jevgenija Zukova

I'm a second year university student doing Accounting and Finance course. I stand together with other female entrepreneurs to bring sensitivity into the business world, fun of art and creativity into local communities, and awareness of highly sensitive people.

2 replies on “Hot Spring”

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