He broke the brandy snifter that day; she had a big ornamental one that sat on the edge of her desk, the sheen of the glass faded with dust.
What is must have been like to watch it shatter—the sparkling glass collapsing and cracking into a million shards of mirrors. Each one glinted with the dim yellow light of bulb above. Each one collided with the ground and ricocheted in all directions, the abstract, macabre shapes burying themselves into aging brown carpet.
What it must have been like, to watch her entire life shatter to pieces in a single second.
What it must have been like to lose him that day.
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Wow, how lame. School is terrible: it feels like I've done nothing else for days but homework, study, go back school. My creative brain feels drained.
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Pretty darn good descriptions and expression for a brain creatively drained, JB. I try to think of all the work I hate doing everyday as the precursor to writing something good. Kind of like giving the soul a chance to fill up the old tub again.
ReplyDeleteWhat HP said. This is really good -- sometimes the best stuff comes when we're drained. Take care of yourself, Juice. Sorry I pooped out on ya with NaPoWriMo. You might be interested in what I wrote on my other blog: http://wp.me/pzOF6-Wc
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