flash fiction by Saige Cross
He stands atop the marble balcony looking down on the city. Great frenzied hordes of people congregate on the sidewalks and spread over the faded crosswalks on the streets below. Amazed at their smallness, he squints and stands tall, imagining them as ants, a number of them on fire under the thick beam of sunlight coming through the lens of a giant magnifying glass hovering above the skyline. From that height, he can barely see their segmented bodies; the pincers; the beady black eyes that protrude from their microscopic exoskeletons. He squeezes a loafer through one of the gaps in the railing, trying to see how many he can cover with his foot, as the beam burns brighter.
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