Distorted
It’s cold; my shoes are wet, stained dark with rain and I can feel the dampness oozing between my toes. I glance up, but the rush of passing people makes my heart hammer and its pounding reverberates in my throat. Then I see him, walking purposefully towards me and I look away, both fear and anticipation rising. I squeeze my hands wondering why he’d approach an old, lost soul like me. I lower my head watching his advance in the puddle. He stops and places his gentle hand on my shoulder, and smiles. “C’mon Grandma, time to go home…”
(99 Words)
The Last Krystallos 