A Commodity of Hours
A microfiction piece.
Your liberation looked like lazy X's in gesso—glossy wide brushstrokes, and no clocks on the walls. Mixing your colors right there on the canvas. Leaving the layers to dry without a fan.
Standing at the kitchen sink, you’d rinse the sunset hues off your filberts and watch the lime-chested kingbirds eat from the feeder I hung on the backyard oak, until the rivers to the drain ran clear.
I wondered if we might paint together, when we were both free.
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Reader insights
Nice work
Very well written. Keep up the good work!
Top insights
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Masterful proofreading
Zero grammar & spelling mistakes
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Pen Name
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a heart hurt by the reality of the world
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Comments (5)
Gorgeously nuanced. This suggests so much more than it states. I love it!
Another strong piece from the Miller! Great job, Morgana! Love the thought and consideration you put into each word in your pieces!
How long must we wait to be allowed to paint together? Is there to be no release from your prison, whether of mania or of walls? Are there others who keep us apart or is it simply that you will not let me in?
This was a great read Morgana. It felt very poetic with your imagery and vocabulary choices! Nicely done and well written!
Great job 😉