Broken Compass

A Halls of Pandemonium Day 25 response.

The storm started before she got home, rain hammering the windows hard enough to rattle the glass.

She dropped her keys onto the counter without looking at him. The little compass attached to the ring—cheap brass, cracked straight through the center—clicked against the marble.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she said quietly.

After she left, he picked up the keys and turned the broken compass beneath his thumb. The needle spun uselessly, never settling.

Outside, the storm kept pushing at the house like it wanted in. Inside, home left with her.

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This is a response to day 25’s prompt for Bradley Ramsey’s “Halls of Pandemonium” writing event. Although I’m not participating in the scoring portion of the event (you know, since I, uh… wrote the backend for it), likes, comments and restacks will (maybe) help us achieve community goals and spread the word about the challenge.