The smell of oakwood - GoldenEarthAngel

The library had a leak. Soft splashes tripped into my ears: drips like blips on what a silent hour. The stench was ripe, too, like I had taken a stroll by the lake, instead of hiding myself away in the nature of books. Damp – yet crisp – the Oakwood pine echoed through my sinuses and senses.

Heady, a dream-induced head rolled back on heavy shoulders. The sweet char charmed.

I would have plugged that hole had I found it – instead, my ears were hypnotised into the dew-land beyond the books.

The End

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