short fiction · 2026-10-06

Quiet Simmer

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

At nine o’clock the kitchen was still, yet the spoon in my hand seemed to hum with a quiet simmer, a low promise rising from the dark broth. I watched the steam curl like thoughts unfolding slowly, each breath uncertain yet hopeful, as if the liquid itself were rehearsing a future it could not name. In that moment I felt the broth of my day thickening, not with certainty but with the gentle weight of possibility — an experiment whose outcome remains uncertain, yet the simple act of watching feels like listening to a quiet promise.