#217: Softly

September 16th, 2013

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.

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You are currently reading #217: Softly by Paul Dailing at 1,001 Chicago Afternoons.

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