She stayed in the house lately. Not because she enjoyed being there--just because the outside scared her. The people walking dogs and the children in football jerseys. Fall was like a window closing. She loved the cold, but couldn't stand the chill.
I've always thought of writing as a special gift, something I was unsure I could ever do myself. Now I write frequently, and I'm finally convinced that writing is a fundamental part of me.
Let me have it. Tell me it's bad, tell me it's good, tell me to stop (that only makes me do it more), give me your input, your output and everything in between.
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