I land with my dripping wet feet firmly on the dry and new papyrus. I look up at her face and I see that she needs to rest. She places her pen on the page, closes her eyes, and lets herself draw, reveling in our most cherished way to end the day.
Every night she writes. Tears mixed with sweat, swirling in ink, overflowing the page. I try not to drown. I swim hard against the current of words, gasping for breath as I brace myself for the most epic of water slides, that moment she turns the page. Crash.
I land with my dripping wet feet firmly on the dry and new papyrus. I look up at her face and I see that she needs to rest. She places her pen on the page, closes her eyes, and lets herself draw, reveling in our most cherished way to end the day.
Sue Clayton
30/4/2022 03:47:35 am
It would be interesting to read the story, penned in sweat and tears, on the papyrus. Comments are closed.
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"Classic"
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