Flash Fiction

[Image by Anh Le from Pixabay]
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In sickness I lay staring out from the window.
All I could see was a few small trees and one big grey building. Shades of black, patches of dirt… the peeled paint made it look more like a sketch of a building…
A sketch of an old building that has seen eras pass by.
An era that changes almost nothing, but still does. Change that life awaits. Life that holds colours. Colours combine to form black, if it’s light they combine to form white.
Remember the prism experiment? Black and white…and grey. Grey characters say a lot. A grey building says a lot.
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