by Grace Black
He pulled a Houdini on my heart. I was watching his hands—I was told to always watch the hands when a magician came to town. He told me I had beautiful hands. But it had nothing to do with hands in the end—It was the destruction of his words and his sleight of tongue.
Grace Black is just another writer wearing down lead and running out of ink, one line at a time. Coffee refuels her when sleep has not been kind. Grace Black writes poetry and flash fiction and has been published in Three Line Poetry, 50 Haikus, 50-Word Stories, 101 Words, and 101 Fiction. More of her writing can be found on her blog http://graceblackwrites.com.
Accompanying photo by Atelier