and re-engaging, at least a little bit, with my writing. a 100-word flash non-fiction piece for Stitch. “stuck in time.”
I observe time slip, help myself to its elongations in the mornings and surrender to its protractions in the evenings. I pad around the bulging hours from 8 to noon: a cat, nesting into a shawl clumped on the couch. I dig into the meat of the day from noon to 5: a dog, dashing to the door, offering a toy, whining, circling. I flit about the flashing hours from 5 to 10: a moth, on a suicide mission to the light, crazed by the brightness, burned in the glare. I crash into time’s oblivion in bed. No more time.
gotta start someplace.