Hazel sat cross legged on his parent’s porch.

His mom brought him a cup of apple juice and he took it in cupped hands, “thanks.”

Was it weird to drink juice at 21?

He held the glass cup towards the sun. At the right angle, it looked so much like beer.

Like beer, clenched in trembling fists under cold yellow lights.

He heard a sharp creak behind him and spun, juice splashing over his lap ...

“Horrid day,” Melissa traced her finger over the table.

“I can stand rain,” I sighed, “but not while it’s dark and cold.”

The rain hissed outside. Occasionally it battered against the large hall windows. Like souls, fighting against an impassable wall.

“It opens at 6, right?” Melissa rubbed her eyes and yawned.

“6 sharp.” I yawned in agreement.

The both of us had been trapped in the univ...

Grainy

Chilly Timber

Cold to touch

Like his stiff hands

When he looks at me

His frown lines furrow deeper

In that face, that cold face of his

His words are empty yet full of anger

One day the door will slam and the coffin lid will slide into place

I will cry at the funeral even though I know not all deaths are worth mourning for...