The Ache.

A Story in 100 Words.

100 Naked Words

A Story in 100 Words.

Photo by Stefano Pollio on Unsplash

The black clouds of anger were gone.
The black clouds of hurt were gone.
The white clouds of joy were gone.
The white clouds of dreams were gone.

Blind eyes, deaf ears, and blank faces provided safety. 
Assurances to remain unseen.
Everything hoped for.
But nothing wanted.

The ache was real.
The ache — breathing. 
The ache — living.

The blight of nothingness was the mask.
The desire to share something.
Anything other than fucking this.

There could be nothing. 
There could be something. 
There could be anything.
But never everything.

There was only the ache. 
Its pulse — life.
Its purpose — hope.