The pounding of the hammers outside cracked through the squeaking cry of the tape gun as hastily packed boxes were sealed.
Then the thuds of boxes stacked near the door reverberating over the buzz of flies and the smell of human bodies at work. Sunlight filtered through dust and smudged windows in a golden haze that began to angle downwards long before anyone was ready to call it a night.
Somewhere down the hall, someone was building something. The hammer sounding out until there was silence, followed by a crying child and a television roaring to life with that day's promise of entertainment.
She stood in the dark, after the small assortment of flimsy cardboard containers were loaded into her rust-bucket of a car, breathing in the musty scent of her greasy, overpriced apartment one last time.
With a sigh, she closed the door behind her, locking it before sliding the key under the door as she turned toward her new life. This one had meant so much for so long, but now the blank canvas of an uncertain new beginning loomed.
YOU ARE READING
Gallimaufry
DiversosRandom writings. Poems, short stories from story prompts, artistic deconstruction of thoughts from the day. Not all content is mature. But some of the writing prompts to contain violence.
