short fiction · 2026-10-08

Interstice

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

In the hallway’s breath, between the fall of heel and toe, silence steps— not absence, but a listener that counts each vibration in the plaster’s bone.

It remembers the tread of those who left, the limp, the hurry, the drag of grief, and when no foot falls, it echoes the last gait to keep the space from forgetting how to be walked.

Sometimes, when the air is thin, it mimics a step that never was, a phantom shift in the dust, just to feel the weight of being followed.