Tag Archives: Sue Allison

The End of the Weather

by Sue Allison

One day the weather disappeared: it wasn’t fine or foul, hot or cold, wet or dry, mild or severe. It wasn’t anything you could name. It wasn’t light but it wasn’t dark, either. It was murky. The outside was murky, as if an opaque scrim had descended and hidden the blues and greens and lilac shades and all the varying temperatures there wasn’t a scale could measure, there were too many and they were in flux. At first, everyone assumed it was a new weather, but still weather and as such would burn off or blow through in a day or two, the way weather did. If anyone had known it was going to be permanent, something might have been able to have been done about it, or so people said afterwards; but, as other people said after that, it is easy to say things afterwards. Continue reading

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Filed under Fiction