Still Life by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Still Life
Page 3
A lace curtain stirs at the nearby window, moved by a breeze that smells faintly of woodsmoke and lilac. The scent of beeswax mingles with the ghost of pipe tobacco, and the floorboards groan under the weight of memory. One is either in or they’re out.
Inside, the air is thick with the scent of beeswax, old paper, and hearthstone. The floorboards creak with ancestral memory.