You awaken to flutters of sunlight over your eyes.
Leaves crowd the treehouse windows, propped open to welcome breezes and an occasional birdsong.
Nestled against your daybed, a table just large enough to support the phonograph perched atop.
[ Drop its needle onto an unmarked vinyl record ] —
You move to stand up. A faded photograph levitates barely above the floor, upon a thick layer of soft pine needles. It appears to have fallen from a clothesline suspended in mid-air.
Bro I’m so inspired by these snippets — thank you for these!!
Nice. What’s the music?