When I write short little stories (which I do occasionally for my own amusement) I find that I am endlessly coming back to them, tweeking a sentence here, a structure change there. The stories that I keep evolve and progress when I do. Id be curious to see how they have changed from their original form but alas that cannot be since I do not save what came before. Anyways, here is one I have been playing with for over a year now.
"Pillow Talk" (I just made this title up, but lets face it, it probably wont stick)
Its just lately I’ve been feeling that it be very easy to fall aside in this life. To pursue avenues that seemed to be what one wants but that lead us somewhere without meaning. Meaning is important to me. I feel the need to get up and run. Go somewhere - do something. I think maybe I understand a deeper part of why you always push to go further and further, but I wont presume to know.”
She thought again for a moment, quickly becoming embarrassed by her sudden omission. Her glance fell to the nightstand but the face of the clock offered no comfort.
“I think I might be talking with an echo. Talking nonsense to myself. If you cant understand any of this, don’t worry. I’m having problems forming my thoughts. Thoughts as concepts in my head seem much simpler and easier to understand.”
He shifted on the mattress and then with such certainty he spoke, “ Its okay. We die never knowing the truth of any of it.”
Nothing hurts between duvet covers.