S T O R Y T W O:
The walls were chipping. I stood in the center of a mess, untouched from when I left it all those years ago.
Old clothes on one side, a dusty guitar laying in the corner, a stack of board games, the top one undisturbed from when I'd last played it. It all seemed almost fake.
Through the windows, golden shafts of sunlight filtered into the room, the colors reminding of the vibrancy that once was, juxtaposing the shell of a person I'd become. I sighed, the nugatory void I'd become now very apparent.
Oh, how the jaded world could change you.
YOU ARE READING
100 Word Stories
Short StoryFlash Fiction ● A form of fiction that "communicates via caesuras and crevices. There is no asking more, no premise of comprehensiveness, because flash fiction is a form that privileges excision over agglomeration."
