Series
A Day in the Life Of Amy
Amy drove home on autopilot, the shopping bag abandoned on the passenger seat. The image of Mark’s face—tight jaw, wounded eyes—looped in her head like a reel she couldn’t shut off. Every word he’d said rang sharp, slicing into the soft place she’d been living in with Fiona.
By Crystal Bowieabout a year ago in Fiction
A Day in the Life of Amy
At first, the days after Amy’s choice felt light, almost dreamlike. Fiona’s loft smelled like coffee and paint, her laughter echoing through the high ceilings as Amy wandered around barefoot, Max curled up in his new favorite spot by the window.
By Crystal Bowieabout a year ago in Fiction
A Day in the Life of Amy
The morning light slipped softly through Fiona’s loft windows, painting the walls in gold. Amy stirred beneath the linen sheets, Max curled at her feet as if he belonged there. She blinked awake, disoriented for only a moment before the night before came rushing back.
By Crystal Bowieabout a year ago in Fiction
A Day in The Life of Amy
The night pressed heavy against Amy’s condo windows, the world outside muted and still. Max dozed at the foot of the couch, unaware of the storm churning inside his owner. Amy sat curled with her knees to her chest, staring at her phone.
By Crystal Bowieabout a year ago in Fiction
A Day in the Life of Amy
The studio smelled faintly of coffee and fresh paint, the walls hung with Fiona’s photographs—portraits glowing with color, light, and intimacy. Amy stood in the center of it all, a little breathless, as Fiona adjusted the softbox lights.
By Crystal Bowieabout a year ago in Fiction
A Day in the Life of Amy
The vineyard glowed in the late afternoon sun, golden light spilling over rows of grapevines. Amy leaned against a weathered wooden fence, her hair catching the light like fire. Fiona lifted her camera, but after a few clicks, she lowered it.
By Crystal Bowieabout a year ago in Fiction
