Recovery

This was an experimental piece on setting tone in a story, I wanted to convey the feeling of recovery after a long convalescence, and not quite sure if I managed it. I will let you all be the judge of that.


Heavy curtains hung on every window, letting out only the tiniest slivers of sunshine where they weren’t properly shut. They gave just enough light to see the crutches, covered in layer of dust, sitting propped up by the front door. A pair of shoes sat beside them, with a yellowed price tag still attached. Around the corner, in the kitchen a broken cup lay on the floor, on top of a stain from tea long dried up, and the sink was full of dishes, with flies buzzing about them.

Alan stepped in with his cleaning supplies, took one look at the mess, and pulled out a garbage bag instead. He had hoped to be able to salvage something, but realized, with a wrinkle of his nose, that had been vacant too long for anything in the kitchen to be worth keeping. He opened the drapes, and the windows to get some fresh air and began the long, hard task of cleaning. He rewarded himself at the end, when he got to the crutches.

He considered keeping them, it would be practical, but the idea of never having to see them again was overwhelming, and he tossed them out too. He reached down, and pulled the price tag off the shoes, slipping them onto his feet. He wiggled his toes, and grinned; they were even more comfortable that he had hoped when he purchased them. He stepped out the door, feeling the sunlight on his face, took a deep breath of fresh air, and started to run.

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