Since the spill she'd had a relapse. The morning it happened, she'd walked in through the double-doors like a somnabulist, carrying the blackened body of a gull. She hugged it, rocking on her haunches, spilling tears while he helplessly watched her, stroking her neck where her gills used to be.
microfiction by Lisa Falzon
No comments:
Post a Comment
I need to moderate comments to reduce spam, so they mightn't appear instantly.. thanks so much for leaving a message :)