The chair in this room reminds me of my mother: elegant, trusting and always there. It is made from thickly cut pine smoothed down by a carpenter's plane.
The dusty white knuckles jutted out dangerously, like they were about to break the skin. The long tapered fingers looked twisted and gnarled in the harsh light.
It was quiet; too quiet. He looked up at the darkening sky, his eyes shrink-wrapped with tears. It was getting late. Stevie picked himself up and began the tumble towards home.