Clean Slate By Mugwump -

Swipe. Swipe. Swipe.

The first swipe was the hardest. It always is. The drag of the cloth across the slate felt like pulling a splinter from bone—a long, necessary pain. The residue of a job she'd hated but worn like a skin. Gone. Another pass, harder this time. The memory of a friend who'd left, a door closed without a note. The chalk dust fell in pale, silent flakes to the floor. clean slate by mugwump

There was nothing written. Not yet. No plan. No promise to run five miles or learn French or become a new person by Monday. Just the void. The terrifying, generous, open void. clean slate by mugwump