99-word story: The book
He closed the door and stood with his back against it. His head thumped as the voices on the other side became muffled, as had so much recently. He crossed to the table and sat down.
The book lay flat on the table, its thick binding rising off the surface like a construction. His trembling hands paused before they stroked the cover. He took a deep breath before his fingers gripped the cover and turned.
His fingers hovered over the photograph on the first page. His head dropped as he sat, staring, and the silence pressed closer around him.
Another attempt at minimal, using Hemingway’s iceberg-theory.
My Words, My World 