One sentence story #10

Painting by Whistler


So cold, the snow in the city, where he stalks like a ghost, where the light in the window is always for someone else, always veiled in cold mist, a mocking vision of what might have been.


Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

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