short fiction · 2026-10-14

Lumen Sutura II

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

The first light of morning does not merely arrive; it inspects. It slides across the cracked plaster of the wall, not to illuminate the damage, but to trace each fracture with a warmth that feels like pressure, like a hand testing the set of a bone. Where the light lingers longest, the dust seems to settle differently, as if the photons are laying down microscopic threads of gold, not to hide the break, but to make the repair visible—a scar that glows.