David Litt
Stories (65)
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The Lamp in the Corner
There’s an old floor lamp in the corner of our living room. It’s nothing special—slightly crooked, with a faded lampshade and a pull chain that sticks when you tug on it. But for weeks, I found myself turning it on every night, sitting beneath its soft light long after everyone else had gone to bed.
By David Litt5 months ago in Families
The Echo in the Hallway
I was walking down the hallway late one night when I heard it—an echo. It wasn’t loud, just the soft sound of my own footsteps bouncing off the walls. But for some reason, it made the house feel different, almost unfamiliar, as if I was hearing it for the first time.
By David Litt5 months ago in Families
The Living Room Floor
I spent the night on the living room floor. Not because I was locked out of my bedroom or because the couch was more comfortable. I slept there because I couldn’t stop staring at the ceiling, listening to the steady tick of the clock, wondering how much longer this would be our ceiling.
By David Litt5 months ago in Families
The Key I Couldn’t Let Go Of
The house key sat on my nightstand every night, warm from my hand. It was an ordinary brass key, scratched and dull from years of use, but to me, it was everything. It unlocked not just doors, but a life my family and I had built piece by piece over twelve years.
By David Litt5 months ago in Families
The Box by the Door
The box sat by the front door for weeks, untouched. It wasn’t packed with clothes or dishes—it was full of things I couldn’t bear to lose. My son’s baby blanket. The photo album from our wedding. A stack of letters my grandmother wrote to me in college.
By David Litt5 months ago in Families
When the Walls Started Closing In
The day I realized we were in real trouble, I was sitting in the living room, staring at the same walls I’d painted myself the summer we moved in. They were pale blue—my favorite color—but that morning, they felt like they were closing in.
By David Litt5 months ago in Families
The Blanket on the Couch
There’s an old quilt folded over the back of our living room couch. My grandmother made it decades ago, patching it together with scraps from clothes my family wore. I grew up under that quilt—sick days, snow days, nights when the power went out.
By David Litt5 months ago in Families
The House Keys on the Table
I still remember the sound of the keys hitting the table. It was late, the house was quiet, and I had just come back from another meeting with the bank. I dropped them down harder than I meant to, and the sound echoed through the kitchen. My partner looked up from the couch and asked, “Are we losing it?”
By David Litt5 months ago in Families
