“Nothing I could do”

It was starting to become worse.

Nothing I was doing seemed to work.

I couldn’t explain it.

Nothing was working.

Nothing.

And I’d tried so hard to make it.

I’d spent so many hours trying to build something that I could be proud of.

That my family could be proud of.

And now it wasn’t working.

Nothing was working.

And there was nothing else I could do.


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Categories: flash fictionTags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

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