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Found some drafts of pieces I was working on long ago. A pulp story, a short little tale I wrote for my brother, a random story I remember writing while bored at work one day years ago. Reading them all now I see new ideas and tangents come into view.
My dog seems pretty proud of the work I have been doing. Well, she is either proud or bored, or hungry. You know, she might need another walk. She could also be telling me to stop looking at her with curious eyes so often. Sorry, Olive. You don’t have to be such a bitch.
Oh, my Boca sandals came today, so there’s that.
