The Pale Circus
The fern was the only green thing in the basement. It grew in a cracked plastic pot, its fronds unfurling with a slow, deliberate patience that mocked the fluorescent lights above. I kept it on the break room table, next to the paper cups and the burnt coffee. It was not a houseplant. It was a survivor. Like me. I had been at the processing center for three years. Three years of gray walls, of...
0 Σχόλια 0 Μοιράστηκε 10 Views 0 Προεπισκόπηση