The Feast of Steven

Once Upon a Christmas Eve

I hear them first. The many timbres of voices rising and falling in conversation, the bright sizzle of a hot pan, a quick pop as a bottle of wine opens, the click and clack of dog claws pacing across the wooden floor, the yawning open and shut of the oven door. Soft and comfortable. A warmth of sound.

Memories— the abstracted elements of sight, sound, taste…

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Jennica Deely

Jennica Deely

A scribbler and scribe scribbling scribbles