Letting Life Lead
Empty mugs and cold coffee rings punctuated the tail of twenty years on a Thursday afternoon.
“We’ll talk again soon,” he said.
She muttered, “What for?”
He kissed her temple, grabbed the duffel, and crossed the threshold. Later, she spied the pristine, rectangle patch where the family portrait had hung.
The place where all the things I write live
Writer and procrastinator
Warden of Words // Shaper of Stories
Bewitching Journey of Words to Meaning
This is the story of building a cottage , the people and the place. Its a reminder of hope and love.
The 24 hours Writing Hotspot and Hang Out
Just your average PhD student using the internet to enhance their CV
Every now and then my head is racing with thoughts so I put pen to paper
Vulnerable on main