Darks

From the Laundry Room

The breeze whispered sheer black across her face.
Gathered near the earthen void, someone asked, “What time is it?”

It no longer mattered, she thought closing her eyes.
The touch, Sunday breakfast, that laugh.
Time had shattered into a million never agains.


My response to this week’s Yeah Write.Me Gargleblaster.

The prompt…Have all your clocks stopped?

Exactly 42 words (no more, no less), oh and no family.  These are such fun.

That’s all from the laundry room.  Time for Bed.

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