Fiction: ‘Dust and Cut Flowers’

55 - Dust and Cut Flowers
Like dust floating through a stream of sunlight. Like a small chip in the paint that resembles a tiny elephant. Like a scrap of that beloved floral pattern on an old sundress discarded to the rags basket in the laundry. I see these relics everywhere. Reminders of those tiny beautiful things. There’s an infinite sadness …

Fiction: ‘Starry, Starry Night’

23 - Starry Starry Night

‘All these years, and I’m still afraid of the dark,’ she admits quietly, avoiding his gaze. ‘I know that I shouldn’t be, but it’s not like there’s a switch to turn it off. The human mind just isn’t that simple.’ ‘Are you afraid right now?’ he asks. She brushes a strand of silver-grey hair away …