a.k.a. sarrah

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a.k.a. sarrah

I sat on the floor

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This morning: in the middle of my morning routine, I sat on the floor and wrote a 66 word short story. I considered making it poem, but liked it better as a story. Why the floor? It felt right. As if I moved to a table or desk, I'd lose the story in the shuffle of my feet, in the passing of the walls, in the seconds that flew by.

Writer's desks are everywhere we are.