Once we were clean windows
that faced each other.
You were a door into a room
where I could live.
Together we were a green field
with no fences.
An autumn sky open to birds.
A place so complete, the quiet
was its own sound.
Years passed, slowly, so slowly
that we didn’t even see.
We were an old house,
collapsing upon itself.
A story, good for nothing more
than making others sad.
Lynn is co-founder and co-editor of 100 Word Story. Her work was most recently published in Eclectica.
First Class 