White Cold Winter
By Willow Campbell
In the stillness of my apartment, I boil water to watch something move. I like bubbles when they grow into noises I can notice like the ghost of someone’s laugh. I can be funny sometimes. Once, I slept on the floor because the bed felt too big, and there’s a saltine cracker I dropped in the bathroom and decided to never pick up because it fell exactly in line with the grooves of the wood. In the stillness of my apartment, I watch water boil and forget about thinking of you. I don’t worry if it’s clear that I’m listening.
About the Author
Willow Campbell (they/them) is an MFA candidate at the Northeast Ohio Master of Fine Arts Program through Cleveland State University. Their fiction has appeared in Gordon Square Review, Glass Mountain Magazine, American Literary Review, and BHB Press. Instagram: @unbroken.blue
