My mind drifts. I think about last night. I think about what the words did to me, spilling out all open and raw on the page. I think about what I’m going to do to them, later.
By day I do my duty, the diligent wife, wedded from 8 to 5 to conversion numbers, to the dry cleaning, to the responsibilities. I am a picture perfect grown up on paper. But my deep red heart is somewhere else. It waits to slip away unnoticed in the evening, for the weighted August air, for the endless blank pages that are waiting. I have so much to fill them with.
Outside my window, a tiny leaf shakes and turns yellow. Fall is whispering in the background. The perfect time to have a little affair.
Photo via Christine Mandich.