“Bro, five minutes.” // His five minutes / has no relationship / with the five minutes / known to clocks.
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Thank you for your email. I do value candour and with that in mind, I wonder if you might indulge me.
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A month before the book he was writing was completed, the tip of his nose itched unbearably. Previous bouts of itching he could endure, but today’s was relentless.
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Maybe falling off the wagon isn’t so smart. Best to stay safe. Retreat to the sofa, reach for the phone, resume scrolling. Let the algorithm be my guide.
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Beneath smoke now blackening the ceiling, Alan was sitting peacefully, chatting once more with his three new best friends, Snap, Crackle, and Pop.
