short-story

  • A landscape of longing

    There is a particular kind of intimacy that only arrives with winter. The world quiets, the nights stretch. And somewhere between dusk and dawn, the bed becomes a landscape of longing—of warmth, breath, and slow-drifting dreams. Enter: flannel sheets. Not the scratchy, inexpensive kind. I mean the good ones. Brushed cotton with a weight that

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