The tarnished red metal of the fence post gleams in the sunlight, numbers on it jumping out at me. 29. 29 Cornelia Street. I lived here. Once. Now the house is in ruins, a single fence post and some crumbled stone. Those years feel so far away now. They were years full of mistakes and broken promises and words that can never be taken back. And there’s no way to make up for it. So I take a single breath, casting my eyes to the ground and continuing down the street.

Hey! This was my 100 Word Challenge for this week. I thought about writing something spy or fantasy related, but then I stumbled across the topic of regret and decided on that instead. And if anyone gets the Cornelia Street reference… well, that would make ME! very happy. 🙂

• Grace