Cube Tiles

Cube

TEXT: The tiles were the colour of heron. They were cold against her face. It had been a long night, and the heat was unbearable. The door was very tall, and she was sure the door key was in the bottom of her bag, somewhere. Each time she moved her head, the world span. The cubes were making her feel ill. She closed her eyes, they were sore. Sleeping on her own doorstep, curled like a cat, waiting for her owner to wake and let her in.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s