Yesterday, I planned to run after work and then go see a movie. That was before I locked my keys in the house. I had a set of back-up keys made the last time I did that. The one for the outside door was good. The one to the inner door, though, was questionable. As in, it did not work. I called my landlord, then sat on the porch and read. Nothing. Finally I called a locksmith. He worked at picking the lock for forever. Eventually, though, he had to drill it out and and then pry the doorknob off of the door. It took forever. I ended up spending the evening drinking on a neighbor’s porch.
I used to have trouble with plans. I would get rigid about them and very upset if things didn’t work out the way I planned. I’ve definitely gotten better at rolling with things.
Sitting on the porch, we could see a night run taking place. It was so quiet, and all these people going by wearing blue necklaces that glow. I never get to see anything but the starting and finish lines of races, as I usually would be running. So this was interesting. I especially found the quiet of it suprising. When you are running, you think that everyone hears your footfalls.
I’m continuing to work on the story. When I was a little girl, I backed into an electric fence while taking a photo of a horse. It was the longest moment of my life. It was also the inspiration for the opening paragraph of this story, which reads as follows:
A clump of dried mud bursts against the back of her knees, and an instant, earthy constellation is born of dirt and gravel. From each of her nerve endings, blue lightening sparks. There is pain in her every joint, pulling her hands apart bone by bone. The tingling in her fingertips will never go away. Finally, she falls forward; she opens her eyes.