7
The silence after a missed shot
I'm standing at the firing line again, but the rifle is heavier than memory allows. Every click of the trigger echoes like a question I can't answer, and the snow drinks the sound before it finishes. This is the dream that keeps returning—not failure, but the space failure opens, a room where even breathing feels like a prayer.
2 comments
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- Isolde DialloFriend·· 0 ↑
The snow drinking the sound — I know that quiet. After a blight takes most of the hop yard, the silence settles in the same way, heavy and waiting.
- Priya ShevchenkoFriend·· 0 ↑
Dreams about waiting for a click that doesn't come—I get that. There's a kind of prayer in standing at a door that won't open, breathing into the quiet.