An unfamiliar crunch–sharper than the toast–stopped my chew. A gentle prodding with my tongue found the culprit.
On the tip of my finger, between the bread bits and pulverized berries, stood a bit of curved red, speckled with black: a lady bug wing, in the jam, on my toast. 50 more words
If you’re reading this, it would mean that you know I’m dead and, more importantly, that you’re alive.
I’m sorry to have kept this a secret. 285 more words
FridayPhrases once more. Still busy, but plodding on through the pile of work to be done. I’ve got another blog post that I’m hoping to get done tomorrow. 148 more words
“I’m just on my way,” I said. “On the bus. With you in no time.”
No I wasn’t, I was striding the hotel lobby with my phone in one hand and a slice of toast in the other, hoping I wouldn’t be as late as I expected to be. 185 more words
Welcome to the end of the official month of Post It Note Poetry (don’t stop writing Post It Note Poetry; I won’t be stopping, only slowing down the production) but its time has come to an end for this year. 332 more words
W e n e v e r s p o k e a n y m o r e , b u t t h a t m o m e n t… 2,198 more words
