Enjoy some Fiction in 58
Maybe today’s the day
The cuticle was cracked, puffy; he picked at it until fresh blood ran crimson.
He didn’t know he did it, why he did it. It passed time, a derelict hobby.
His cramped cubicle opened to the break room.
Where every day at 9:45 she’d pass, fold her hair behind her ears, whisper hello and boil water for tea.
The cuticle was cracked, puffy; he picked at it until fresh blood ran crimson.
He didn’t know he did it, why he did it. It passed time, a derelict hobby.
His cramped cubicle opened to the break room.
Where every day at 9:45 she’d pass, fold her hair behind her ears, whisper hello and boil water for tea.
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