One micey. Two micey. Three micey. Four—
He stopped, stock still, on the gleaming barbed wire fence. The fourth spike was empty. Where was four micey?
Category: A Bird's-eye View Tags: birds, butcher, drabble, ecosystem, nature, short story, shrike, writing
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Email: talkto [at] theurbanspaceman [dot] net
Twitter: @MrUrbanSpaceman
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