Down to the last page of Flash Fiction, I’ve read them all. A bunch to write notes up on, because in one way or another, they had something I’m seeking to learn. Something I don’t have and may never, I think.
A fitting end to the day: Rejected by Confrontation. Somehow I feel I need to cry first, get the tears out of the way to keep them from blurring my vision. Then I can find my way back to whatever I was before I saw what I thought I could be.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology