It was cold and dark as I walked to the bus stop, sharp and biting, and I was so tired my face felt stiff and strange and my eyes wouldn't focus right, and then finally, finally I got home, and the soft warmth wrapped itself around me and the door shut out the noise, and I stood in the silent, empty kitchen and listened to the heat hush out of the register and saw that someone had cleaned the crumbs off the counters, and felt held.
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AuthorBitter Water
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. Archives
June 2019
Categories© Francie Nevill and Every Sweet Thing, 2017.
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