sunday sunday
The weight of the cold uncaring laptop pressed gently on his inner thighs while he struggled to remember a tidbit that had come and gone, leaving him sure he'd been inspired but feeling all the more useless for having lost it.
The idea skirted away from him like a little girl's laugh in the hazy playgrounds of memory.
All he could get a firm hold on was the feeling of dissatisfaction. He knew he was stupidly trying to escape thinking by writing, but everything kept cycling around to that rather-be-attending-to need.