After a stormy sandwich
- Barkus
- Mar 5
- 1 min read
The static in my head is brain-scratchy, a restless swarm of unfinished thoughts.
A stabby ache lingers in my chest, sharp but without a clear wound.
I retreat into my paracosms, where the sky bends kindly and time does not chase me.
The stormy sandwich sits heavy in my stomach like an abandoned pregnancy.
