Flash Fiction: Sifting
© Meg Griffiths
Hana unwrapped herself out of tangled bed sheets and stared at the walls. Grapes were strewn everywhere, some flour had fallen over a bowl, and the evening light refracted from broken glass onto the ceiling. The wrath of last night still lingered as she cleaned the apartment in silence. She felt empty, strangely pure, her ego disappearing after the contention; placidity replaced indignation. The screaming and lashing of the night before left her collecting the gravity of developing, springing her back to life.
