Writing
Found this old story I wrote in a journal a few years back, from a previous life. Thought it fitting on this July eve sitting by the fire. — - My stove snaps and grumbles as it quietly snacks on the wood I feed it, loyal like my old dog was. I
Writing
The last I saw of Pixie, our cat, was a month ago, around the same time Jane and I began making brave attempts to renovate our bungalow, gutting out a couple of rooms and moving a wall or two. You know, one of these conversion exercises where the kids’ university
Writing
The day is getting late and drawing to a close. As I drive the rain burns in my headlights and my wipers cry as they struggle to wipe away the greyness. I pull up at the beach running late as I always seem to be these days. Time is dead