The window holds what no one dares to claim.
The breath fades fast. The glass resumes its stare.
The faces pass. The silence stays the same.
***
The buses halt; their doors extend like flame.
The strangers step and dodge the open air.
The window holds what no one dares to claim.
***
Two hands now hover. Neither one can name
the weight between, the ache they will not share.
The faces pass. The silence stays the same.
***
A child draws circles, playing at a game.
Her breath blooms soft, then vanishes: despair.
The window holds what no one dares to claim.
***
The folded paper tries to still the frame.
His ring reflects a flash of distant glare.
The faces pass. The silence stays the same.
***
The grinder hums. The clock repeats its frame.
The light turns red, then green—the evening flare.
The window holds what no one dares to claim.
The faces pass. The silence stays the same.
About the Creator
Fatal Serendipity
Fatal Serendipity writes flash, micro, speculative and literary fiction, and poetry. Their work explores memory, impermanence, and the quiet fractures between grief, silence, connection and change. They linger in liminal spaces and moments.
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