Stories in the Tiny Worlds Sketchbook are like a pencil sketch with words; loose, unrefined and not wholly a thing. But I like them and think there’s something here you might like, too.
A lone spotlight pinned her like a secret too delicious to share, her curves carved out of smoke and shadow, her presence pulling audible gasps from the crowd. She stood there, the serpent of her performance winding itself around her body, bending and curling to trace every dip and swell. On that stage, she wasn’t just the moon—she was a celestial tease, the Milky Way spilling over the edge, impossible to touch but begging you to try.
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