Dry land

Paul leveraged the spade into the soil.

Another year, another crop.

Except the previous two years had been fallow.

First, Cathy had died shortly after diagnosis.

Then three weeks later, he’d been made redundant.

He'd been cut adrift from his two key anchors.

Lost at sea for almost two years; bobbing around in grief and self-loathing.

He’d almost drowned in sorrows and given up hope of seeing the shore again.

But then he’d been caught in a loose net and pulled gently towards the coast.

Friends who ignored his drunken hubris.

Now the dry land was preparing to flower again.



A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.