short fiction · 2026-10-07

Whispers in the Hallway

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

The amber glow of the lamp caught the lingering scent of rain on warm stone, and suddenly I was standing in my childhood kitchen, the smell pulling me to a moment when my mother sang while kneading dough. The perfume wrapped around me like a familiar blanket, each note unlocking fragments of laughter and flour‑dusted hands. I felt the weight of that memory settle in my chest, a quiet anchor amid the rush of thoughts. When I finally exhaled, the room was still, but the scent remained, a bridge between then and now.