Flash Fiction: Inconspicuous. “What’s Real?”

Written by Deeya Nambiar

In the still frame of reflections, time inconspicuous. Summer stories bright as daylight reframed winter tales of freezing cold.

“What’s real?” She evaluated the images on window pane.

“Moving clouds and your absence.” The rest an illusion of proximity just like Him.

Deeya Nambiar

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