by Carol Hone

tied 2nd place

The screen door was being stubborn and sticking open, again. I turned in the entrance and jabbed it with the toe of my shoe, unwilling to put down the bags of groceries to free my hands. When the tremor struck, I was balancing on one foot and swearing. The floor shook, the door-frame swayed. A juddering rumbling engulfed me. Outside, the trees and the two-storey brick-and-timber house across the way shimmered as if turning into one of those desert mirages.
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