day o n e
1:07 a.m.
another restless night. the swings next to me were swaying mildly in the wind, a ghost of a child on it.
the park was empty except for me. of course, it being in the middle of the night adds to the cause.
i brushed my brown hair back, fingers tangling in the single white highlight.
with my eyes closed, i listened to the midnight breeze.
the swing swayed lightly under weight, brushing against the tank top and ripped skinny jeans i wore.
i hummed a lullaby quietly, just to hear the sound of it contrast to the silence.
tears started to flow down my face, stopping my lullaby and letting silence taking over.
"where are you now?"
YOU ARE READING
swing ➳ clifford
Short Story“swings are used by one only, but it needs the occasional person behind it to give a push.” © annette yes, lowercase intended and all that jazz. {please note that this is entirely fetus me}
