No. 34/100 flash fiction stories. See the prompt that inspired it!
Rain fell. Waves surged through a small pond in a small wood in a small town.
And yet, the green frog sat.
Croak! he said, full of joy as a wave splashed on his face. He did not need to fret; he knew the ground was fixed, though the pond was not. He was cool, he had food, he breathed fresh air—the rain was a gift.
How much more joy would we have if we put more hope in what we know to be true than the waves we see in life?
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