There’s a certain quiet.
Or the rain.
Or traffic on an otherwise empty street.
Pulling over for a casket entourage.
“Play me a song,” he used to say and he’d close his eyes to listen.
His body lightly laid on a small mound of pillows and freshly washed sheets; whiskers purring at his limbs.
They were never very good.
When friends edge themselves between parentheses and steadily saunter toward ellipses.
I discovered these little bits of writing in a draft post on a 2009 blog I never launched.
(How many of those do you think there are out there — blogs that die before they’re born — ? I imagine a digital blog cemetery floating about in the digital ether somewhere.)
I edited the text a bit and divided it into four little bits o’ writing. I don’t recall if I wrote it all in one sitting or over time but it made sense to make those edits.
Do you have unfinished or half-baked draft posts or pages?
What little surprises have you found?