Inspirational prompt 27

The surface of the small puddle of water rippled and a quarter of an inch high tsunami raced to its edges. A deep resonance barely touched the soles of my shoes, sent vibrations up my shin. It was a clear day, not a speck of cloud on the horizon, and people came out to feel the sun on their faces, hands brought over squinting eyes as shields. Those dressed heavier now shed the extra layers. Perfection. Except the fact it was December and a blizzard was raging five minutes ago.

Stacey looked up, thin perspiration coating her forehead. She pointed to a dark and shifting mass on the sky. “What’s wrong with the birds?”

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