Emily Dawn
Stories (2)
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Understanding Joy
In a warmer and politically safe part of the world lounged a woman that drank coffee, not with a roman sophistication but as a habitual movement that accounted for breath. Without fail, each day, she awakened by 4 in the morning with nowhere to go. A shuffle to the kettle and a slide of the heavy back door were merely short travels between two places to be. Once the weighted glass pane un-stuck from its seal, crashing waves often revealed a jagged soundscape that had a slight eeriness to match. Misted air joined oxygen only briefly before a tube of relief was inserted towards her mouth. Nudged abreast lined lips, of which had uttered many words across humbled time, a flame flicked. Upon inhale, the shoulders dropped and an arm extended, reaching for caffeine and another day.
By Emily Dawn5 years ago in Families
