She sits alone in the staff lounge and gazes at the big clock on the wall. It's midnight. She stands up and goes across the room to tear off the November page of the calendar. It is now December. And all at once she is transported back in time to a December many years ago. It’s always this way. Every year. As soon as the winter chill starts residing in the air and November closely comes to an end, she gets absorbed in thoughts of that sweet December. Wishing she could bring it all back or find a way to change the course of time…and life. But that’s just a hopeful dream.
Memories have the power to pull at one’s heartstrings, sometimes it pulls you towards joy; sometimes it pulls you towards pain, as for her, she experiences both.
There are twelve months in a year. But December is all she cares to know…all she cares to remember…
More dose of prose
Memories have the power to pull at one’s heartstrings, sometimes it pulls you towards joy; sometimes it pulls you towards pain, as for her, she experiences both.
There are twelve months in a year. But December is all she cares to know…all she cares to remember…
