Fiction in 58

Here’s a little Fiction in 58:

Soul
If he tries really hard, he can almost feel the hole in his soul.
Always at the cusp of sleep, when he’s relaxed and motionless. He lets limbs grow heavy, empties his head of thought. Eyes shut, he breathes deep and determined.
When it’s there, just within reach, he raises a finger to touch.
But it flees.
Always.

1 comments:

Dee Martin said...

this is just ... wow