A perfect globe, precious and fragile. The only one of its kind.
Zoom out: crooked trees with leaves like wax, grasses little more than wires clinging to the ground.
Zoom out: a rash of tin roofs overtaken by sand, only dust moving now in empty veins.
Zoom out: an iron-hard land, baked and cracked by a pitiless sun. A network of brutal sepia shadows.
Zoom out: forgotten satellites spinning where clouds once hung, gazing silent and eternal upon the legacy of promises broken.
Zoom out: a perfect globe, precious and fragile. The only one of its kind.
This is a 100-word flash fiction story, prompted by the picture you can see up there, as part of Friday Fictioneers.