All in a day’s work
His parents had named him Thaung, Burmese for ten thousand.
By a strange twist of fate here he was making pots.
Lots of pots.
He surveyed his handiwork, drying under the hot sun.
He reached into his pocket for his keys.
Then remembered he had dropped them into a pot for safekeeping. (278 chars)
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My wife Anne-Claude kindly provided another photo for my Tweet-sized fiction challenge today. Day 5 already!
These are pots from a pottery village along the banks of the Irrawaddy river in Myanmar.
I still need a few photos by the way.