A Writer’s Book of Days Exercise: Home

There was grass growing between the crumbled paving stones of the temple. Xue blinked her eyes and reached out, catching one long blade between her fingertips. It whistled when she snapped it off at the base. The tinny notes of the picadenny carousel accompanied the wind. She held it until the first chorus finished, and then let it go.

The wind took the grass and the song up and away, leaving her in silence, leaving her staring up through the hole in the ceiling to the lavender sky beyond. Gravel dug into her back and her shoulder blades pressed hard against the paving stones, but the patch of colour kept her entranced.

She could see the sky, feel the stones, smell the grass, even taste the salt from the Sea of Memories. She didn’t want to move, afraid that sitting up would shatter the world, leave her waking in her empty grey apartment.

She sat up. The world stayed where it was.

It was real.

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by | Feb 25, 2011