I twist the napkin between my fingers, silently shredding it to tiny pieces that fall into my lap like snow on a dark night. A million thoughts bounce around my head, but as I look around the table none of those thoughts make sense.
By Sarah Majewski3 years ago in Fiction
The air was thick with humidity. It was the type of heat that hung in the air and didn't move once it settled, leaving a trail of sweat on the people it touched.
“I want to leave.” The words barely left her lips; a whisper dancing across cherry red lips only to fall into silence. Just as suddenly as the words escaped, her face changed as a puppet possessed.