Tiny Tuesday – “Balsa Blues”

11 Sep

The balsa biplane tumbled, held aloft by the breeze, too light to plunge to the mossy heath and too improperly weighted to stay upright. Fergus ran beneath, cackling breathlessly, arms outstretched as if to leap up and join his toy in joyful flight.

Far away, his mother slouched on her Peugeot and gormlessly smoked. She was missing Coronation Street for this? She yelled at her toddler to return.

Fergus couldn’t hear; his plane had succumbed to gravity and plunged over the white cliffs. He howled his misery into the wind, a foot-long gob of unbroken drool waving gently from his lip.

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