writing
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There is stone that reads throw me sitting on a random shelf. Nobody remembers who put it there. That is the strange part. It isn’t decorative. It isn’t polished enough to belong beside the books, candles, and little porcelain angels collecting dust beneath the stained-glass window. It is an ordinary gray stone. Heavy. Cold. Imperfect.…
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Everybody is willing to hate you until they need you again by then the relationship has changed. Not ended. Changed. There is a difference. Endings have funerals. Flowers. Black dresses. Dirt thrown over something everyone has agreed is dead. Change is crueler. Change leaves the body sitting at the dinner table. It lets the conversation…
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Everyday starts off like an ordinary day until it isnt. That’s probably how most things happen. Nobody wakes up Tuesday morning expecting Tuesday to become the reason they start looking at plane tickets by lunch. The coffee tastes the same. The computer turns on. The same people need the same things they needed yesterday, except…
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There is no time to sit idle when the world is spinning round and round. She arrived carrying a suitcase, a laptop, and a mind that had no intention of staying where her body had been placed. The hotel lobby buzzed with polished shoes gliding across marble floors, rolling suitcases announcing new arrivals, and conversations…
