There's a smell to the dusty air in the back of the barn loft. The hay, the wood, the horses down below. They all mix into a blend that tells me stories. Stories of the old days, when my grandpa hid up here. Stories of secrets told between best friends and first kisses between awkward lips.
I love to lay here and listen to these stories. To learn these secrets floating through the air, quiet motes drifting through me in silence except for the horses down below.
#microfictiony3