Compost #6 NaPoWriMo 2018

When you were gone, the kombucha had grown, the liquid was gone and the glass bottle was full of mothers, grandmothers, godmothers, stepmothers, white ones and dark ones. You strained the mothers through a white plastic sieve, they slipped over the edge, however you nailed them with your elbow. Your husband said that was enough and took all mothers except two babies to the compost. Even the Samoyed dog won’t go near the compost anymore.

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