Flash Fiction David Kohlhoff Flash Fiction David Kohlhoff

Song of the Dead Sparrow

Sammy ambled without direction, his cold blue eyes—hardened by the solitary winter—scanning Chicago’s cracked pavements, gravel-strewn expanses, and overgrown fields. Summer’s lush grasses, once teeming with vermin, lay parched and sparse, their golden blades brittle underfoot.

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