The Wistful Petal

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 00:59:00 -

The Wistful Petal

Marla sat on the porch. Rain hit the tin roof. She counted drops. One. Two. Three. Her hands shook. Coffee went cold. She didn’t care. The cup sat there. Brown stain spreading. Like a map. Of nowhere. "Marla?" She didn’t turn. "Marla, come in." "Go away, David." "Your feet are wet." "Let them stay wet." He stood there. Umbrella dripping. Blue suit. Too nice. Too clean. He looked like a man who...

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