The Day Michael Flew
by William I. Lengeman III
Michael stood at the peak of the garage roof, with one bare foot planted firmly on either side. He could see all the way down past Pap’s backyard and the cherry trees, past the creek to where the cornfields stretched out in all directions as far as he could see. A clump of dark clouds loomed in the distance. It looked like it was going to storm before long.
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