Prompts = Burden, Dust, Frantic
Ryan’s gaze swept across the attic. There were too many boxes to do any real sweeping.
He’d asked for a private space, away from younger siblings and prying eyes. This dust bowl was now his. He railed against the enormity of the burden.
Frantic calls to friends (and the promise of pizzas) coaxed a few to pitch in. They’d arrive soon.
‘How’s it going?’ His Dad’s head peeked over the railing.
Ryan gave an update.
‘Nicely done, getting help. What kind of pizzas you want?’
‘You buying?’
‘Sure. Unless you want to?’
‘Nah. Thanks.’
Maybe this could work after all…
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