So it’s 1:30 am, Ken’s gone to bed, and I’m still up sipping
red wine and trying to eke out a short story.
We live in an old house, one that
creaks and groans and settles.
Just now, the heater (I think) (I hope) made two distinct, sharp
knocks into the silence.
And all I can think is, I’m damn well not going to knock
back, because I do not want to get an
answer. O.o
2 comments:
Oh, wow. If you'd knocked, you MIGHT have gotten an answer! You just never know...remind me to tell you the time that the bed shook. That's all I'll say...HUGS dear! I miss you!!!
Very creattive post
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