The Writing Moment

Bright sunshine storms the world outside the coffee shop window. Yes, it’s a sunstorm fronting a blue sky, a cruel thing. Exerts the kind of pull felt when he was a teenager and a girl asked him to come to her house to listen to music.

He’s here to write. Edit. Just thirteen months into the novel in progress. Third revision session. Halfway through. Must be done.

With a promise to the day, I’ll join you later, he opens the novel and resumes.

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