Each rap on the door made his heart beat faster. He didn’t bother to look through the peephole. He knew the sound of Miranda’s knock and that she was standing there in her blue woolen coat, purple and white scarf and a knit hat with her cheeks flush from the winter chill. She was the only person he wanted to see in those miserable snowy days when there wasn’t much to make him happy.
Excerpt from Miranda’s Red Boots by Mark Tulin on Friday Flash Fiction.
Crow On The Wire 
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