The room is dark, but not all dark. The streetlights outside are like sleepy, orange eyes, and when cars zoom by, their headlights slash through the window, making crazy shadows dance. It's like a silent disco for shapes on my walls. One minute, a long, skinny shadow stretches all the way to the ceiling, wiggly like a worm. Then, whoosh, a big, chunky shadow of a truck rolls in, looking like a grumpy monster. It's the best show ever, way better than TV, because I get to make up the stories for the shadows. That car looks like a knight's horse, and the truck is definitely a dragon slinking through the trees. It's a whole secret world that only happens when the lights are out.
Stephie
THE ROOM
© Copyright: Илья Бубнов, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125113008978
Свидетельство о публикации №125113008978
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