read
write
members
about
account

 

datedatememberrandomsearch

February 15, 2019
It's raining. Outside, fog. Inside, warmth. The fireplace hasn't been used for years, she forgets why exactly. Is it something to do with a phobia or just laziness? Or is that story about something else entirely? The electric heater sits too close to a pile of old newspapers. She stares at other corners of the house and realizes it hasn't been cleaned for weeks. Baguio can make one forget that days end, days begin again; especially on these cold days. The sound of little feet overhead, taptaptaptap. She lets her blanket eat her. She won't surface for days and days.