Flash Fiction-One Morning
One morning, early, he awoke for what he thought was the usual day. It was that late January morning where you can’t tell if you’ve woken up too early or too late. Either way darkness and the dull, orange hue of the lamp-posts are all that pierced that particularly dark dawn. He was in the ethereal space being unsure if he was awake, asleep or where reality dwelt at all. ‘Time to go, come on’, was the command from his…
