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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jun, 2025
Weekly Contest #309
There was something romantic in the way my mother dried bedsheets. She would hang them up along the stairway railing, where the sun hit the second floor just right, and it didn’t take long for the fresh, almost citrussy aroma of detergent to spread down the halls and into closed-off spaces that were our rooms. If one were to pass those sheets, one could not help but be reminded of something they couldn’t quite determine. The bedding spread along the wood, and a mirror for the golden rays held an odd, romantic feel of melancholy. Melancholy o...
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