My cheek was pressed against the cold window.
From the kitchen,
the smell of the small cedar chips burning in the fireplace,
I watched millions of flakes
fall past the street lamp,
floating to the ground
below.
0
favs |
1064 views
2 comments |
36 words
All rights reserved. |
The author has not attached a note to this story.
I'm practicing flash-fiction and would appreciate any feedback I could get. Thank you, in advance.
I remember this moment in my life and you seem to have caught it so astutely!