Martha Pennington
Joined June 2021
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The Day She Found Her Tears
The sun’s rays collided with Abigail’s flesh in a flash of heat and dust as if to take whatever moisture it could to withstand its own smoldering flame. Before the end, there were places with temperatures that would make the strongest of men cry, not polluted with radiation and debris. The world she lived in was one of death and disease. One of poison tears and soiled hands to wipe them away. Not that she cried anymore. She couldn’t remember what it was to shed waters of pain from her eyes. The wet stains that had graced her deep mahogany flesh were, but a whisper of childish dreams. She missed those days. Abigail missed what it felt like to cry. She missed feeling human.
By Martha Pennington2 years ago in Fiction
