Open with the Close

30 Days of Write is back, and this is my entry for the first assignment:

Right then, as he walked away, I wished it was winter. I wished for frost to hide my tears, and snow. I wished for snow, so I could follow his footsteps like string into the woods. Instead, the still heat of August left me exposed and hid his path completely. Only a few broken blades of grass said he had ever been there at all.

This might be a story I'll return to, so your input is appreciated.