More Notes From My Pockets

Once more I have very little to say (it happens sometimes) so here’s some snippets from my notebook.


I stared at him, unsure how to respond to the compliment hanging expectantly in the air between us and I wanted so badly to cry because this was not how it was meant to be. But I was afraid to cry and that stung as sharply as the praise because that, too, was not as it should be.


As Spring began to dawn, the snow retreated reluctantly, cowering in the cracks and hollows of the mountain in a futile attempt to escape the reviving light.

There is no lullaby like the sound of raindrops.

She sat on the porch step, staring out at the rain and wondering if happy endings really did come to everyone.


It was the strangest thing after all this time to find washing drying on a line, fluttering in the breeze and the smell of fresh baking drifting through the open window of a homely looking cottage. The scene was positively absurd in its normality.


The gormless beast cleared its throat and shuddered down the driveway into the night.

He was one of those people that I was just never quite sure of, the sort who would say something utterly outrageous then laugh at your disbelief and tell you he was only joking. As for the other, how was one to tell when he never opened his mouth?


I only write because there is a voice within me which will not be still. I’ve written pages upon pages trying to rid you from my bones and now the story is done I can’t bear for you to go. But here we are old friend, you and I, here on this last page. I think the time has come for another adventure and you will do just fine without me.


He looked confused for a moment, as though she had interrupted his thoughts just as they were about to wander off the edge of the world. Then he smiled and was with them again.

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