lightsleak
Jackhammer dust. Billowing up and over like the smoke of nuclear warfare, of atomic bombs. Hands twined together the world watched the bodies fall like a tissue on a breeze.
The table was completely bare. Scuffed edges and etchings done out of boredom with dirty forks. A steak knife masterpiece.
Red, blue, and white ribboned together, spiraling endless to some unheard metronome. The tinkle of a bell alerts to the opening of the door, the entrance of a new possibility.