Another day, another week blowing by

Time flies by faster and faster with the passing years. I once heard that it’s all perception – when you’re a kid, it seems like forever between birthdays because each year is such a significant fraction of your life span. That span from 5 to 6 years is an eternity as you added 1/6 of all your potential memories in that time. Get to your thirties, and any given week is a blip on the radar. I digress.

I haven’t made it through the stories I intended to, but I have added a short something to the Older Stories section. It’s a standalone, nothing to do with Vedin or our guy Samuel. When you read it, I want you to imagine sitting at the bar, arms folded while you’re holding onto an empty glass of bourbon on the rocks. You got all the world on your mind and not enough liquor to wash it away. A woman in a blue dress is singing, the band behind her, people chattering and the bartender sympathetic. Smoke is in the air, and that’s fine by you as you linger somewhere between disgruntled and lost. Outside, the city air is cold, a wet snow sliding in between buildings at an angle, and you know at some point, the drinks’ll run out and you’ve got to get back out there. The music is comfortable, the voice embraces you and sings to the pit in your chest that can’t let go. That’s where the new short came from. And I mean short this time.

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