Below is a writing exercise I practice where I ask my partner for a prompt word and write something based off that. Today was a t-shirt and a sausage roll.
The faded blue lit up into black as the t-shirt embered its way into the past. She held in her hand the remnants of the paper that had carried the heat down, down and into a burst of acceptance that had warmed the fibers, and left more than ash now glistening on her fingers, unfelt. The chill that had progressed deep into her ears was now blending artfully with each lilt of fire. The radiating orange revealing a line of trees and the sad sag of an unloved shed. The top yelled its protest before settling into a gentle crackle, wooden fuel being added when it felt it had no more to give. She reached into her bag and retrieved the puddle warm sausage roll she had been saving to celebrate the passing, but she found her stomach full of cotton, unable to process the salty pastry without retching.
Lily Portman 