100

24 Dec

Sometimes you tell stories by the dozen. Short ones. Stories that lead nowhere. End in midair. Over some dark chasm you aren’t ready to face. All along, you are looking for a story. In between, you are making lunch. Going to the store. In the midst of it all, you are trying to locate a story. Maybe in the lunch itself. Or in the coffee you are drinking. It’s hard to say. A story won’t just slap itself together. You can’t make a story grow any faster. You can’t fertilize a story the way you can a plant.

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