General · Short Prose

shrouded in mists of our own making

today, when she woke up, she rubbed her eyes a little harder. overnight (or so it had seemed), the mists had rolled in, ethereal yet real, muting hues and dulling voices. “from whence did it come?”, she wondered, studying her hand, its edges blurred. descended from Afar, or leaked from our collective pores? it’s not… Continue reading shrouded in mists of our own making