Abigail rose from the tangle of blankets, wringing wet. The bedding reeked with her sweat. She staggered to the window, chilled less by a limp breeze, more by what she would see when she looked out. The barren street mocked her. She rubbed her… Continue Reading “Day 132”
This was originally written as a short story. It is recreated here as a prose poem. For every dreamer who wants to fly.