Flash Fiction

It was cold and the skies were clear. After the month he spent going through crash courses on how to teach, he’d learned this much about the school: Cold and clear was its natural state. His grey-green khaki jacket and white fur hood, they weren’t quite cutting it. Any number of teachers could’ve stood out there to point the new students to the dorms. Not that anyone really had to, since everyone should’ve gotten a map in the mail. But dammit, they were supposed to be on their best behavior.
[Copyrighted © July 31 2015, J.M. Blute]

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