Waiting room

The antique, white chair pressed against the teal wall as I waited for the door to open. The photographs above my head spoke of realities long passed; sepia tones bled through the colorless hues like aging newspaper. I could see the the handle twist; the door’s soft crack a few centimeters open, not yet big enough to fit.

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3 comments so far

  1. Michelle Johnson on

    Your attention to detail is incredible, Noah. You were made for writing these short pieces of ff. Keep up the good work. Have a great weekend.

  2. noahthegreat on

    Why thank you. 😀

  3. Crafty green poet on

    yes the attention to detail in this is superb, exactly the type of attention someone finds themselves paying when they are waiting, it builds up a sense of anticipation too


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