Tiny Stories: Wrought From Shadows

Popular belief has it that the universe is comprised of atoms. In reality, the universe is actually made up of…

It has been three excruciating years since our final devastating war of words and your subsequent departure. In that time my loneliness has become a physical creature wrought from the shadows of all the empty spaces in my life you used to inhabit.

Although I never speak it aloud, I have given the shade-born wretch your name and imagine your likeness on its face which is devoid of features and each night as my pillow whispers all the regrets I will never be allowed to forget, it comes to me, kissing my forehead and caressing me with long, blurry arms in bed as I tremble from sobs brought about by the absence of your presence.

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