You open your eyes, and the day is new. No, it isn’t new, but fresh, crisp. Like fresh snow, or the hiss of opening a can of Coke. It was bottled up, sweet, but overly so, and it stings as you hold it up to your lips. The coldness burns you, as nectar pours down your throat. No, this day is not new; you’ve been … Continue reading Nectar by Alex Childerstone