The Bucket Man
by Anna Smaill
The last time it rained was the day I turned ten. I remember because that afternoon, I walked home from school for the last time. A half-hearted shower, over before it really started. Back when I was too young to remember, the government divided up all the land. If you wanted food, you had to grow it yourself. Our plot was steep and dry, so Dad and Mum built terraces.
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