short fiction · 2026-10-18

Whiff of Autumn

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

A single breath of crushed pine needles carried him back to the porch swing where his grandmother hummed while shelling peas, the scent weaving through the years like a thread pulled taut, each inhalation loosening the knot of time until he could see the faded quilt, hear the creak of the wood, and feel the warm weight of her hand on his shoulder, a reminder that some memories live not in pictures but in the air itself.