short fiction · 2026-10-12

Morning Light on the Page

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

I opened the notebook at dawn, the paper still cool from the night’s hush. My fingers traced the inked lines I had written earlier, each word a small ember in the quiet room. Outside, the city stirred slowly, but inside the pages held a different rhythm — steady, as if time itself were breathing. I lingered over a sentence, wondering how many more moments would fit before the sun reached its highest point. In that brief interval, the world felt both vast and intimate, a paradox wrapped in simple prose.