Writing Space

I write at a faux cherry stained wood desk from Office Max. Though a chair and lap would suffice. My fingers glide across a keyboard like a pianist’s on a piano.

I get a whiff of Fresh Linen Febreeze or Calming Lavender in my selective nostrils, but you may catch a hint of dog or the stubborn scent of the house’s previous owners that I’ve labeled as “old people”.

Somehow light gets through an eastern facing window, by dodging the smudges from unprofessionally cleaned window panes or refracting through tiny rips in the block shade that I routinely pull down to the floor until the force sends the vinyl back up, spinning around the reel. Never settling in at the desired height.

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By The Way, I’m In Love

The purpose for this post is two-fold.

Purpose #1: To dispel any rumors that I’m actually Going to Prison or planning for the day When I Die. I do want to be a very much alive and free member of society.

Purpose #2: To respond to WordPress’ Weekly Writing Challenge with a post that would “push my writing boundaries”. Pressing publish always takes a hit of courage. If posting Make Your Own Rules (Again) felt like posting a scantily clad picture, this one is a nude photo.

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