Fiction Friday. Autumn Drizzle. 

​He sneezed into the tissue and wiped clean the autumn drizzle that seemed to stream from his nose.

He crumpled the slight tissue, and then stood back on the balls of his feet. He judged the target of the toilet bowl and the distance. He lobbed the ball and it hit. 

‘What are you doing?’ his wife asked, startling him. 

‘Nothing, dear’

‘Well, move out of my way then. We’re going to be late’ 

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