A window holds its breathas the day thins to a pale wash.Frost gathers at the corners,soft as dust. Someone walks past,coat brushing the airand sending in a brief drift of coldthat sharpens a thoughtthe way cold sometimes does—clean, immediate,quietly sure...

Continued… Alayna came back. She was to be my first appointment that morning and throughout the night before at home in bed, I thought about her. All of her. Her feel, her taste, and that spark of a crush. A...

“winter palette"Winter leans inwith a painter’s restraint,lifting soft bluesfrom the frost’s first breath,letting tree‑shadows sketchsilver across the ground.Branches rise like quiet script,each stroke a reminderthat pared‑back beautyasks only to be seen..