He was the first person I saw among the throng of people inside the bus. He was looking outside the window, his forehead on it, lost in thought. His shoulders were slumped, his eyes depicted loneliness. An aloneness that could only come from somewhere deep within. Sadness that couldn’t be reached unless coaxed out. ThereContinue reading “He Was…”
Tag Archives: short story
Puff. Puff. Swig.
She was trembling that night. As she silently padded her way from her bedroom to the balcony of her condo, she was trembling. Slowly, she got out her cigarette pack from her back pocket and placed down a bottle of half-consumed red wine beside her as she sat down on her patio chair. She litContinue reading “Puff. Puff. Swig.”
Ruth Medina-Ilasco 