Clean Slate By Mugwump Now

Now , the silence said. Now or never.

Swipe. Swipe. Swipe.

The chalkboard of the year stood before her, not erased, but smeared—a ghost-trail of Januaries and Septembers, of promises half-drawn and resolutions half-scrubbed. Each gray smudge was a word she'd choked on, a plan she'd abandoned by February, a version of herself she'd tried to dust away but couldn't quite. clean slate by mugwump

The board turned black. True black. The black of deep water, of obsidian, of a sleep without dreams. She leaned her forehead against its cool, empty surface and breathed. Now , the silence said