Thin winter sunlight flooded the apartment and there was a cheery crackle. Mikhail rose from his armchair by the fireplace and crossed to the window, with the spray bottle in his hand. With care he misted the orchid on the windowsill. The flower was so delicate, white as the snowdrift in the street far below.
Another crackle, closer, and shouts. He looked down at the street and saw running figures. A shrill whistle and then the corner of the apartment block opposite bloomed flying masonry and bodies. Mikhail misted the second orchid, all the beauty that was left to him.
Fancy sharpening your skill with writing exercises? The Scrivener’s Forge offers a new exercise every month to hone one aspect of your craft. Take a look at this month’s exercise on character, desire and plot here.