sjsprWriting

Tick. Tock.

By then it had become a drone, an incessant, soothing drone. Lost in a daze, I stared at the typewriter. The letters. The buttons. The paper.

Tick.

I was unsure of how to begin the story.

I could not put down in fathomable words what I felt when I saw her.

How are ya?

I sensed her smile, remembering those jocose words. Looking over my shoulder, she wasn’t there.

Tock.