I sit, waiting -for the silence between the heartbeats, the pause between each breath. /At the end of a falling star, or the flicker of a lightbulb – behind the half-closed door/  As the bird stops singing, and even ants run off to hide - I’m waiting.  


As some of my followers may know, when the pandemic started, I decided to write one story every day for a year. I think I managed about 70 days before the strain of writing a short story every day just became too much, not only did I burn out, but I wasn’t getting anything else … Continue reading Habit