Sunday, December 2, 2018

100 Words a Day 1255


The door creaked open revealing an old spiral staircase. The steps were covered with thinning carpet, worn by the tread of many feet. The bare brick walls that surrounded the staircase were cracked and crumbling. The handrail squeaked when I put my weight on it. I sighed.

It’d always been rundown, but it was never this bad. It was like when I went home and saw my mom limping for the first time. It wasn’t much of a limp, but it shattered the illusion that the things I’d taken for granted in my life were as perpetual as they seemed.

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