Sometimes, if I strain my eyes hard enough, I can see him as he sits on that mahogany chair we bought at Gravesend all those years ago; eyebrows furrowed and pen in hand. Continue reading “A Letter. (Week 8: Fiction)” →
I put down the manual and looked around the room for a few moments before my gaze settled on the mess of parts in the center of the workshop. It was almost done. Continue reading “Ornithopter. (Week 7: Fiction)” →
A single leaf flutters in the breeze. She brushes past her brethren, sailing across her mother’s branches before waving goodbye as she floats gently earthbound. Continue reading “Rain. (Week 6: Fiction)” →
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