Quick words. I apologize for my inattention. I will return.
Please visit the #FridayFictioneer page here:
Here’s my contribution, written in the time it takes a drip of coffee to spoil a fresh white table cloth:
An aged wooden chair, entombed in blankets, he awaited. Without reserve to roll forward nor back, without momentum whatever, having forsaken and been. This life’s winter, upon grave reflection he only fathomed despair, anger, regret.
Where was family, love, life worth sharing, and with whom?
How he’d squandered his last grains awaiting a kiss that would not come. Promises so stale, bitterly missing the original intoxication, now dust.
Lacking all, not even a tear had visited.
Then one came. A black veil lifted, revealed Her. Lovely. Beautiful. Youthful. She leaned in, her lips moist. She harvested his last breath.