writer.without.words
Fog drifted through the fields, settling on the remains of the mill, where a few hours ago a fire had destroyed every last bit of the families existence. Flour the was left drifting aimlessly through the air mixed in with the wintery fog.
The brown wheat bread crumbled between my finger. Why, oh why! Why did my favourite bakery have to be sold out of white bread? The world must be ending, that is the only way to explain it.
I was aiming for the gold, I really was. But then, well I don't know what happened, it just wasn't enough. I don't know how to go back to my coach now, he'll be so disappointed!