Under the Whispering Door

It crawled from her chest, the monster of grief, trying to drag her down into the depths.

in a tea shop so far from everything he’d known, he felt a great wave of sadness for all that he’d had, and all that he’d lost.

freshly wiped down. The chairs tucked underneath were old and worn, though not shabby. They too were mismatched, some with wooden seats and backs, others with thick and faded cushions.