Tuesday, November 12, 2024

Fog

The fog writhed grey in the darkness, twisting coils choking the streetlights. The sidewalk was slick, and I picked my way carefully home. I knew the path from my door to the pub very well, although I confess the way back was harder to remember. After a few pints, the cobweb pattern of streets and alleys were harder to navigate, especially in the dark. 

I usually make it home eventually. 


No comments:

Post a Comment

Comments, questions, topic suggestions, and your vote for worst sentence can be made here: