Xanthic #atozchallenge #Ukraine #fiction

penned in moon dust

As he walked back to the church with a small bag representing all of our belongings, my husband exhaled. Had he looked up, he would have seen the sickly Xanthic (yellow) hues. No one could look up because of things falling from the sky and who wanted to know that chemicals could be adding to the danger…

Additionallly—He didn’t want to think about the Russian Navy that was once again closing in to the Odessa port. How long? he muttered, a day maybe two?

Exasperated, he set the bag down next to me. He plopped himself down and expressed all the pent- up frustrations of the last several months. He held my hand and I listened as best I could. Occasionally, I squeezed his hand which was as much energy as I could exert.

Olga came over to see if I needed anything and…

View original post 298 more words