Sticky Note No. 3

Ever since I read Being Blacksilk’s post on post-it size stories, I keep my pink stickies in my bag, hoping that I will be able to come up with a story to fit its tiny pages. Generally with me it is never a lack of desire to write, it is just that the words do not always come pouring from me. It must have been pouring rain outside this morning however, because the thunder literally woke me up. It was so loud, it took me a second to realize what it was. A text later rejogged my memory, and I dug down in my purse for my pad. I started with thunder, and the rest followed…transcription of my relatively neat print below…

She could not sleep through a storm, the smallest sounds put her off. The thunder woke her up. She had not slept on the plane and even the soft hotel bed was not going to help her. The flight to New York had been fraught with a lot of things racing through her mind like a horse race without mint juleps. She drank wine on the plane whenever it was offered. Very tipsy, she’d hoped the alcohol would lull her into rest. But her mind could not rest. He was on top of her as if he were there.


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