The cold stone of the stairs caressed the soles of his bare feet. He lifted his hand and pulled his fingers along the wall as he thought of her. He missed her, his true love.
He paused and pressed his palm against the wall–bowed his head in remembrance. They’d come here together so many times, but now, without her, the place had a completely different feel. Without her it felt old and broken, lonely and rundown. Without her by his side, he felt nothing but contempt for those broken stairs. They had taken her from him in an instant.
This one didn’t come easy to me. This ended up being the third attempt.
Written for Friday Fictioneers.
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