I attended a writing seminar, this is my unedited passage from that day:
The green line to your left is angled in a way scientific and tender to keep the waves at bay. You’ll know before long to nod in agreement and double-saddle-stitch your lips in all other realms.
You, my friend, frail and tired, will join me in the candy shoppe as we wait for the train. These walls are felted with edible, crystalline killers and saccharine pleasantries. Even if we could afford them it would behoove us not to partake. Oh, this crowd makes me nervous as well. Adhere your hands to your thighs and your eyes to the window lest we’re accused of pickpocketing and are promptly removed.
A light drizzle of rain announces the burning arrival of our beloved storms. The tickling pater of half-drops on the roof is a happy distraction from the languid and half-hearted talk of the gentry sharing our air.
All noise suspended as room’s attention moves outside, I know this isn’t right. My heart has fallen and is clawing at my lungs; I may need some help standing. There is something horrible outside.
This ceiling doesn’t look familiar. These walls aren’t mine.
This is awake. I know this place. It is familiar. It is familiar. I have felt this before.
I am home and haunted. Who was there with me? I knew them well.
I loved them.
Heavy hearted I seek distractions knowing my companion dissipated with my waking. Sporadic tears remind me the day is progressing.
Hope mounts as the sun sinks. The day wasted on thoughts of things that didn’t happen, on hopes those things might happen again.