Giving Thanks.

Don’t pray when it rains if you don’t pray when the sun shines.

The boy rolled up his prayer rug. He lightly placed it through his arm pit. His ribs were stabbing out. He was starving. Sand slowly slithered through the cracks in the wall. He took a step forward, glass screeched as he made his way to his ash covered bed. He sat down on the metal skeleton of the bed. His frail hands and legs were no larger than the remains he sat on top  A huge explosion erupted in the distance, the ash withered in the room. Sand crumbled from the roof. His brother’s body turned over to face him. He unrolled his rug and got to his knees, small shards of glass crushing his bones. Another explosion ruptured, he fell forwards. He shielded his eyes, he wasn’t sure if this was all real anymore. The world was never able to stay perfectly in focus. His brother’s body was slouched the opposite direction.

 

He smiled and whispered another prayer.

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