short fiction · 2026-10-14

The Indicative Dawn

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

The sky was blue on that first Tuesday of November. A child stepped out of his window, watching the leaves tremble in a gentle breeze. He remembered the old song his grandmother sang about beginnings, and felt a quiet certainty settle over him. The bakery across the street began its morning hum, and the scent of fresh bread drifted through the air, mixing with the crispness of the wind. In the park, an elderly man fed pigeons, each coo echoing like a soft percussion. A stray cat slipped past his feet, disappearing into the shadows of a maple tree. He paused, inhaled deeply, and let the world speak in simple truths. No command was given; instead, reality simply unfolded, inviting him to notice rather than to act.