A splash of red in a glass as the rain drips softly outside the window.
Stomach full of roast chicken and vegetables and brain full of YouTube videos, I sit and wait for inspiration.
Something’s got to happen. Something’s got to come.
Softly I wait as the rain drips outdoors.
Sirens go by the window through the soft rain. They shriek through the night, perhaps wailing toward a different splash of red. An airplane roars above.
Something’s got to happen.
Last night, many things did happen. A friend was encountered at a coffee shop; another at a birthday party. I laughed and joked and told too many old stories.
But now I sit with red wine and rain, staring out a darkened window.
Because I forgot my fucking notes for tomorrow’s story.
