short fiction · 2026-10-19

The Palette of Invisible Breath

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

I inhaled the memory of rain on hot asphalt, and suddenly I was standing on a forgotten street where neon signs once glowed. Each waft of ozone carried a chord of distant lullabies, and the air itself seemed to hum with the sigh of wilted jasmine that had never been plucked. My mind untangled the threads, weaving them into a tapestry where scent was a brushstroke, color a fragrance, and time a lingering aftertaste. The invisible currents brushed against my thoughts like fingers brushing silk, leaving a faint perfume of distant pine that I could not place. In that fleeting cascade, the past breathed through me, reminding me that what we cannot name often speaks louder than any word.