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Weekly Contest #36
She stood at the kitchen counter, slicing plums into slivers, as light streamed in through the glass. She felt as if her soul was sleeping. It was a heavy sleep. Though the trees were green again at last, and the grass, too, her soul was in a leaden, listless, winter slumber--the kind one takes when they want to stop feeling so cold. She padded out to the paved driveway which had consumed the light cast upon it throughout the morning and was therefore made almost unbearably hot. The soles of her feet, scorched by its firey coals, carried her...
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