where: outside lewis’
to:open @redridgestart
raindrops trickle down the fogged window , bringing with it a waft of nostalgia , easier days ; lazy sunday mornings wasted away under pale sheets , spread over the soft grass on her belly , all red knees and wet socks . morrigan had never been particularly afraid of the dark, even as a child — there was a comfort in the anonymity of it all , the mystery and possibility of things you can’t see in the light . but nowadays it feels as though the nights last forever , and the days get shorter by the minute . “ it’s just rain, my hair’s thick —- i’m sure i’ll live. " year after year, day after day, she’d spent what it felt like millennia in self-isolation , piling brick on top of brick to build to this invisible wall that now stands between them , in order to outlast winter .











