Above the foaming clouds

Albadawi picked at his food, not reacting to Baba’s saturnine work story. To his left, Jada entertained his baby sister with boring folklore.

Turning inwards, the youngster filtered out the family’s endless chatter, imagining himself soaring freely above the foaming clouds, mounted atop a massive flying fish.


This piece of flash fiction was written in response to:

31 thoughts on “Above the foaming clouds”

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