Challenge: Write a short story without sight.

Soft. The bed is soft.

The pillow is soft. The mattress is soft. The comforter is soft.

I am wrapped in softness. It's all I care about.

I don't want to open my eyes. I refuse to open my eyes. If I do I lose the sense of still being in a dream, still being in another world. Still being somewhere else.

If I open my eyes I'll know what time it is, and probably have to do something about it.

As long as my eyes are closed, as long as the comforter is pulled up to block the light, I am not here. I am not now. I am not responsible.

My hand shifts on the pillow. I feel a seam. I jerk my fingers away. No. Too real.

Stick with soft.

Just soft.

Just