Amber Armstrong
Joined March 2023
0 stories
Stories (5/0)
The Last Time I Left You Was Actually Before the Last Time I’ll Leave You
“Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky.” As the old song goes, or is it a proverb now? An adage? We have no dictionary, and I was never one for remembering a true definition…But dancing, yes, that’s one way to see it. No, it’s not. That's one way by choice. Have I ever seen it in such a light, in the rare event I’ve been out at the right time of any day or night, in the last few weeks (years?). No, there’s never been any dancing. It’s not what I see. It’s not what I feel. In any case, dwelling on how I feel does about as much good as saying what I know, to the elders especially, when they gather at these midnight hours in the worm caves. Notta lotta.
By Amber Armstrongabout a year ago in Fiction