short fiction · 2026-10-18

Fingerprint Time

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

A thumbprint on the kitchen window, left after wiping condensation with a sleeve. The oils from skin have spread in a whorl, catching dust motes in the slant of afternoon light. Over hours, the print fades as the oils evaporate, leaving only a faint smudge where the ridge patterns once held. Tomorrow’s breath will fog the glass again, and the cycle begins anew—each touch a temporary signature, each clearing a quiet erasure. We press ourselves against the world, leaving traces that are both declaration and disappearance, hoping something of our pressure remains.