June 4: day 4:

In keeping with my goal to write everyday, I am here at my computer with nothing in particular to say. I need to overcome that. Let’s just write, shall we?

My vacation does not feel like a vacation this year. It feels like time to do a bunch of stuff that I normally wouldn’t have time for. I find joy in my walks in the hot summer sun, though. Today was not hot; super weird for this time of year in the swamp where I live. I used to live in a hotter place, one with no humidity. My lungs would singe with every breath, but my young self didn’t have a problem with that. I ran around barefoot on asphalt that had tar bubbles. We fried an egg once on the pavement. Texas can be brutal, but I love the heat. I’m happiest in the summertime. Even here in southeast Texas, where the air is so thick with humidity that you gulp every breath, I feel joy when I’m in it. And there are alligators in the suburbs–I’ve seen them.

I cheated and went in search of something to post that I wrote in the past in a running document. The document began several year ago and is still going strong. Sometimes I date entries, but mostly I don’t. I don’t know when I wrote the entry below, but it was a while ago. I have exhausted my thoughts for the evening, so I will end with an old post.

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I have decided to practice writing first sentences…

It was a dark and stormy night. (jk)

The new keys were springy and danced beneath her fingertips.

She shrieked with a magnificent look of glee and terror as she careened toward the ground through thin clouds in a blue sky.

And that was that.

“So far, so good,” she thought, as she spun the dial of the lock to ensure nobody could get into the vault—or out.

It was a pleasure to burn. (Okay, not mine, but maybe my favorite so why not see what it’s like to write it.)

Day faded into night, releasing the moon and the eyes that it lit in the darkness.

The shovel made a thud on the ground as she brushed her hands together to wipe away the dirt and blood.

Indignation dripped from his downturned mouth and down the back of his throat as he nearly choked on the words that he allowed only his hateful glare to convey.

***No more “as he/she’s”***

“We’re lost, aren’t we?” He whispered so the dark couldn’t hear the fear in his voice.

They stood at the edge of the precipice and waited for the last sunrise.

Only the bones of their love remained.

The second time was even better.

He was mesmerized by her audacity.

High noon follows the sun around the planet every second of every minute of every hour. But the sun chases midnight and never catches up to it.

Somewhere south of Mexico …

Daytime is seasonal in the arctic.

One bite left him cold and weak.

The End