Monday, June 3, 2013

The Storm

The wood floors creaking under shifting weight. Rain knocking on the weathered deck. He stood and looked on with a statuesque poise. Jaw set, granite cheeks, dark eyes. Regret, shame, apologies running down my face. Realization, a thick fog pressing in on me. The taupe walls passing judgement with every word. One choice, one moment, last chance.

No comments:

Post a Comment