I can hear the footsteps in the gravel path out front. Whispers of arrival. Louder then on the wood porch. Boots I haven't heard before fitted on feet I don't know.
This is my secret place. My cabin buried in a wild wood. Hidden, tucked, and tidied away. These steps shouldn't be coming, invading this isolation, treading through my silent thoughts.
There's a shuffle & a pause & I hold my breath, bracing for the knuckles on the door. Bracing for the end of silence.
#cabin
#microfictiony3