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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2023
Submitted to Contest #255
On the top of a wooden table he sat. Calm as a tree absent the breeze, calm as a chef without orders. He cleaned himself, like always: slow and methodical. Is it strange that I wonder at the texture of his tongue? Elegant as the creature might be, he rarely allowed for the kindness of touch. What an odd thing to find oneself lacking, after a husband, after a son, after a time when physicality seemed the only constant in whirlwind days. Compared to those fingers, or even this cat’s fur, the click of keys on my laptop leaves a cold mark. Where...
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