The Window

He looked at the condensation clinging to the single-glazed panes of glass that made up his bedroom window. Nothing and everything going through his head; an existential crisis in a sea of quiet. The water droplets stayed fixed; immovable. Time passed in lurches; inconceivable units of intangible nothingness. He found it hard to believe that … More The Window

Bus Stop

She looked at the backs of her hands that she held out in front of herself, as though resting on a table that wasn’t there. So pale against the tarmac below, she thought. She could make out the bones of each finger, and every imperfection. She wore her grandmother’s wedding ring, a subtle silver thing, … More Bus Stop