From Where I Stood, You Were All I Could See

The door stands innocently before her. It must have been dark green once, but years of neglect have left a faded,  pale shade in its place. She reaches for the door knob with one hand, the other adjusting her bag strap. The key jams in the lock for a few seconds before she remembers that it had always needed the extra tug. The door creaks loudly as she pushes against it, the familiar scent of the living room wrapped up in musky undertones. Light barely gets through the worn out curtains, hanging at the windows. It's the same ones, she thinks idly. She remember picking them out excitedly.  The landlord had covered the meager furniture in the room, and as she passes by the sofa, she runs her hands over the thin plastic. Her palm comes back caked in dust. She grimaces at it, reaching into her purse with the other hand, wondering why she even did it in the first place. She tries to ignore the way she can almost hear his voice behind her.

we all wear the same face in different ways

The laughter was loud, bursting from her throat unbidden. wild and feral. bouncing off the walls of the small, bright room; looking for an escape and finding it through the window by the closed terrace doors. the neighbors would later comment that it couldn't have been her. She was usually so quiet and never went off …

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Strings : the day it began and everything else ended

The place is called Old Man's cliff, small thing at the edge of the town; and as she stands there now, she kind of understands it. The grass beneath her feet faded and brown, shirking growth and life even with the season's urges. The lone tree stands heavy, near dead branches sagging, moving slightly in the …

Continue reading Strings : the day it began and everything else ended