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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jul, 2021
Submitted to Contest #103
The attic is cold. The kind of cold that lingers in your bones long after. The crack lines in the window taunt the thought of shattered glass on the ground. One harsh sweep of wind and the whole pane would fall, broken pieces digging into molding wood. Yet the windows are old and have lived through many bitter storms. The wind won’t break what’s been there forever. The rain dances on the roof somehow making the world seem quieter. Why I was sent up here I can’t even remember because now my whole focus is on the misfit items scattered around....
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