Jerzy counts the steps to the summit – 88 flagstones, solid, rooted, arcane. Breathing heavy. The mid-autumn wind whips his rust-coloured hair into stiff peaks, a will of its own. He can’t bear to look over the craggy edge, cantilevered. What if he sees something, what if the remains are picked over by birds, ravaged by scavengers, even worse, what if there’s nothing there. His third eye refreshes, recalling the spat that made his arms lunge, made his body inflate like the incredible hulk, made his will gust like the wind… made Arturo topple over the edge like humpty dumpty. "Blame It On The Wind" was published in Friday Flash Fiction December 2023
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