The Pale Bonsai

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 01:56:34 -

The Pale Bonsai

The jar shattered. Glass sprayed across the kitchen tile. Red juice bled into the grout. I stood in the center of the ruin. My hands were empty. The smell of pomegranate hung in the air. Thick. Sweet. Acrid. It was a smell that tasted of iron. I looked at the shards. They caught the morning light. Each fragment held a tiny piece of the red. A trapped universe. A collapsed star. I am a man of...

0 Comments 0 Shares 5 Views 0 Reviews