I pulled myself away from him, onto my knees. We eyed each other, frowning.
Did you hang that dream catcher?
He looked blank. Unconvinced, I rose and headed for the stairs. Light creeping into the room from a part-open shutter showed footprints in the dust. Mine? His? Or neither?
This is the latest update in my attempt to write a story one tweet-sized installment (280 characters or less) at a time. You can read the first 26 installments as one continuous story here.