this morning #247.

this morning, the words were just flying off the pages. she looked out the window at the sun’s early morning orange haze, amazed that she had once again stayed up all night buried in a book. bumpy journeys down country roads. loads of drama & intrigue from the mouths of countesses & earls & assorted scoundrels & the like. wet nurses & weddings & funerals across the broad english countryside. throbbing members galloping to the rescue atop muscular mustangs. it was a rich world unlike hers where the words weren’t absurd or mundane or insane in their curtness. their made-up existence had purpose. she hoped that one day hers would surface.