He came unconsciously unexpected and unsurprised. The notice was hanging in the hallway downstairs. Mary didn’t bother to read it, since she only rented the apartment for a week, but she did bother to open the door. She thought it was the woman she had spoken to on the phone the night she arrived, stunned by the duplicated door number.
He stood in his black boots on the bathroom rug where she stood barefoot every day after a shower. He looked at the fan of dust, commenting on her cloudy face with uncomfortable mental fluff.
Soot sneaked startingly.
About the Creator
Moon Desert
UK-based
BA in Cultural Studies
Crime Fiction: Love
Poetry: Friend
Psychology: Salvation
Where the wild roses grow full of words...
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Shadows and Light
He grew up in the soft hum of stained glass, where sunlight through colored panes made angels dance on the walls. The church was a fortress, its rituals a rhythm that promised safety. Prayer was a language he learned before he could read, and faith was a comfort as sure as his mother’s hand.
By Sound and Spirit4 days ago in Fiction
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