Quote of the Day:

“I write only when inspiration strikes. Fortunately it strikes every morning at nine o’clock sharp.” – W. Somerset Maugham

I’ve decided that if I am going to be doing this daily blogging on TK I may as well copy it over to my website, too and start a collection of thoughts that no one really cares about but me. I’m paying for the server space and domains, I might as well start using them to their full ability. 

I feel like the more notes I read here, the more I see how alike we all are, … Read the rest

We have had enough of these goodbyes.

Remember when they were tearful, but full of love, hugs, kisses, the kind of goodbyes you don’t want to suffer through?

Maybe I liked those better than the quiet quitting of our relationship, the way you just backed out like you didn’t feel like going to the game.

A game is all I’ve ever felt like, a person being played, a pawn in someone else’s life.

She doesn’t fit here, go there.

No, that’s not right, either, move here.

Until I’m knocked off the board, and you’re picking up the pieces and leaving.… Read the rest

“Look at this,” he said, brandishing a flat, shiny rock.

“A relic,” the other man said.

“They called it a cell phone,” the woman whispered, her voice sounding hungry as she reached out for the object.

“Now, now,” the first man said, “Finders keepers.”

“I don’t think so,” the woman said, and then hollered a low grunt as she slammed her weight into him, sending the phone spinning across the floor.

The other man picked up the phone and began running, but it wasn’t long before he heard the woman on his tail.

“Give it! They had something called TikTok!”… Read the rest

You slide the bag across the table, the hooded figure opposite you peers inside. “Where the hell did you find this?!”

“Never mind where I found it, it’s what we’re going to do with it now that we have to figure out.”

“Well, we’ll sell it, of course.”

“Sell the most valuable gemstone known to man? This thing is worth a fortune, and the second it gets into the wrong hands, we have no hope of seeing any profits from this.”

You reach to take back the bag, but the man pulls away.

“It’s mine now. Thanks for finding it.”… Read the rest

I never thought I’d be leaving the garden to go off and hunt for someone in the barren wasteland of the city we’d departed years ago.

They said he was seen heading East, toward the city, and I pictured him picking his way through the rubble of skyscrapers and dodging the sinkholes where bombs had landed in the streets or on top of buildings.

Then I wasn’t picturing it, I was there, stumbling over concrete and avoiding decades old ordinance, crossing no one’s path on the way to find him.

He left me for this nothingness, why should I bother?… Read the rest