Spring has sprung, as pollen dances off the trees and clings itself to my now yellow-silver car. "Achoo". Allergies, natures payback for the destruction of the world. I meander into my unclean home and sigh, the smell of stale air makes its' way through my senses. The hum of electricity lulls me toward the sofa where I shuffle papers on the coffee table. I remember when my mother would open the drapes, and the windows, to usher the fresh spring air into our home and chase away the stale air of winter. I recall cleaning and dusting and making ready for the heat of summer. I stop my mindless shuffling of papers and look over to my favorite chair. She calls me into her loving embrace, as I pick up my computer and recall how well I procrastinate when it comes to cleaning. Time to procrastinate once again. Oh, and hello spring, why don't you grab summer by the balls, and get lost! I want nothing more than the return of fall.
YOU ARE READING
Short Stories by Amaranthean
Short StoryI would like for you to sit back relax and read over a collection of Short Stories and Poetic Prose that I have written. Most stories are 500 words or less. I will add more stories from time to time. The picture on the cover was taken and edited by...
