This story brought to you by Dictionary.com's word of the day...
David pulled his fingers back across his scalp in sheer frustration.
"Nothing!" he cried.
He stared hard at the bare page as if that act itself might suddenly yield a muse to dance into life before him. But if she was there, three days of glaring had not incited her to reveal herself yet.
Exhausted, he dropped his head to the table. If this was to be his aubade, his greeting of the dawn, it seemed it was certainly going to come on the heels of a dark, dark night.
He felt her hand come to rest gently on his shoulder.
"Nothing yet, huh?"
He shook his head. She squeezed, a silent assurance. "Don't worry," she added, her voice filled with confidence he didn't feel, "it will." He raised his head to look at her, the light framing her face.
"It will."
Her smile was radiant.
And he had it, his muse, his aubade, his morning's song...
"I love you," he whispered to the dawn.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment