Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 02-02-2013

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He made them miserable because it was fun. He froze their toes, stung their ears, and spent entire afternoons nipping at their noses. Until he reached the bus shelter for the 11A at 4:45pm, that is. Jack Frost careened away from the little plexiglass hut, disgusted, the wind howling his irritation. Damn witches! Two of them! The woman had deflected him with a warming wall and the man had literally kicked him in his (typically) unseen behind as he bounced off of it. “Maybe Gust is right,” he muttered angrily to himself. “I should head south and do something different with my life.”

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