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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Dec, 2019
Submitted to Contest #18
Boris shoved his bare hands into his trouser pockets, stretching them out in an attempt to rouse the feeling he lost in them long ago. One of his fingers popped out of a tattered hole, only to be buffeted by the mid-December gale. The boy sighed, squeezing his hands into protective balls, barely shielded by the thin material of his pockets. Across the icy road, a banner wrapped around a dingy shop without a name, loudly proclaiming in bold black letters, “Second-hand, vintage, antique, thrift.” The open sign was just visible between two...
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