Stucco
by Mae Grey
· 14/12/2025
Published 14/12/2025 15:53
The cab is twenty minutes out.
I lean where I used to stand
when the keys were in my pocket.
The wall is a jagged skin.
Gray grit, frozen oatmeal
scraping the wool of my coat.
The light in the hall is different.
The brick hasn't moved an inch.
It’s just colder than I remember.