Liminal by Stella Douglas

“Passages.” He runs his blue index finger across them like coats in a cupboard. Who is this? But I know who this is, and I know what Passages are. They are Passages of Time. The blue man smiles. His sapphire eyes look into me. I have been travelling these Passages forever, and this one is my last.

This content is for 12 Short Stories in 12 Months members only.
Log In Register
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments