The clock struck twelve and she’d missed the bell. Her coach had turned into a pumpkin and the horses into mice but it was all the fault of her friend who happened to get sick and need attending in a hospital bed. Any excuse would do.
Two for one and one for every day. Another coming later.
What she was starting to think was that all of the missteps of romance lately were exactly what had been needed to correct the course she’d been on and show her self to herself — what her passion truly was. Whether anything ever came of it, it made her feel good, no great, to pluck away at keys and think of all the way that words can be twisted to say a thing or two.
He was just the right dose of distraction to get her off thinking about death and onto thinking about life. It had reminded her to put that thinking off.
“So, thank you, Mr. Tall Dark Handsome Stranger, for coming along when you did.”
Some days are better than others, writing and not thinking of him.
Writing Spool 