Egress > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

People are weird, talking about glass when the world is in shambles.

It is World War Three, and the sky is eternally bright.

Her laugh was dry. No matter how strong the glue, a broken vase was still broken.

Choices shape the world.

Dependency was inevitable.

Cinderella, Cinderella, haven't you learned that glass is fragile?

Talk to me in the language of flowers.

part one