I shoot up my hand but before the words touch the air, I’m shhhh’d. At the pulpit is the critic rambling and spitting dribble.
What am I doing here anyway, I ask? Standing, I unfurl my favorite finger of the bunch, and enjoy the slam of the door behind me.
I’m bumbling through sentences constructing sense where there’s none.
You know those money wind tunnels that everyone sucks at? Well, there’s a secret. Press the side of your body against the glass, stand in place, and the wall stops the money.
There is buttered popcorn and the first episode of “Yellowstone” waiting for me downstairs. I want to write, love to write, but the drip, drip, drip of thoughts isn’t letting me. I want a couch, a sherpa blanky, popcorn, cuddles, and entertainment.
Not to fret, I’ll be back this way tomorrow. I hope to see you.
Thanks for being here. Love, Jaclynn