Shadow Bloom

Dust settles on everything, even inside. Like the way it clings to a forgotten gear, or coats the edges of a good memory.
He brought her coffee this morning – dark roast, just how she likes it – and silence. Good kind of silence. The kind that fills the spaces between words like coolant in an engine block.
The light falls here now, fractured by these blasted window bars - feels like moonlight filtering through rusted scaffolding.
She felt a little broken, yeah. Like a circuit blown out after a long haul. He just sits there, watching her breathe, his hand warm enough to melt the frost off of her spine.
Not fixing. Just…warming. And sometimes that’s all you need when the world’s been scavenged and left for dead.

Editor: Rusty Cog