A Storm Brewing

Jagged looks from his dark brown eyes sliced her composure. She sat cross legged on the worn carpet, it had seen better days and was frayed at the edges, like her patience. Coffee madam? he asked, the edge in his voice grating on her already fragile nerves. The purple curtains billowed into the room as the wind picked up outside. . . a storm was brewing.


R. Burnett Baker said...

Thanks for visiting me! Your "small" stories are rich with emotion and large images. I look forward to reading often!


Singer said...

Thanks for visiting Rick - your comment is very welcome.

Hope to see you here again.
Singer :)