Flash Fiction published in Popshot Magazine
You hear the tentative whisper of the wind become a whistle and the whistle hurl into a tormented howl sooner than you were prepared for it. You watch the branches of the leafless tree archback reluctantly. Rebellious at first, relenting at last much like the defeated warrior of days gone by.
 ...You dancing in the wind, eyes closed. Feeling the wistful wind reel you off the pavement. Drops of rain rolling off your fingertips and the cold cursorily cradling your hand. So cold. You open your eyes...
   You snatch away your hand from the open window, cast away your frivolous fancy. Seal the window shut. Pull the blinds down. Realisation dawns on you. You, an adult now. You turn your attention back to the laptop screen that stares back at you.Â