Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Prompt Word!
Dust
She used to fear becoming dust, forgotten by time the way old photographs fade at the edges.
But life had already taught her that endings were never as final as they first appeared.
Some things crumbled, yes — dreams, promises, versions of herself she had outgrown.
Yet even in the breaking, something sacred lingered, settling softly like dust in sunlight.
The universe, after all, had made stars from smaller things.
And perhaps she wasn’t disappearing at all — only becoming part of something wider.
With love, coffee, poetry, and stardust,
— Maggie The Afterlove Voice 💫
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