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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2020
Submitted to Contest #54
The smell of freshly washed laundry hangs about the air, pressed and ready to be folded away. I can hear the sound of dishes clattering in the sink, my mother never was one to put things in the dishwater, “pateej nahi aati” she’d say; I’m not satisfied. From where I stand, barely ten yards from the threshold that would take me within the doors of my childhood, it seems like little has changed. Sure, the once white paint on the walls has chipped away, exposing the red brick underneath, like a wound that has begun to scab. There are no longer...
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