Three hundred words, working title. The line I keep cutting and putting back: "he had not slept, but he had dreamed."
He had not slept, but he had dreamed. The horizon was the color of a piece of paper that has lain in a drawer for years and forgotten what white meant. The sentry held his post not because of orders — the orders had stopped coming — but because there was nothing on the other side of stopping.
Three hundred words, working title. The line I keep cutting and putting back: "he had not slept, but he had dreamed."
He had not slept, but he had dreamed. The horizon was the color of a piece of paper that has lain in a drawer for years and forgotten what white meant. The sentry held his post not because of orders — the orders had stopped coming — but because there was nothing on the other side of stopping.