There's a certain charge in the air today. It's crisper and cleaner. The summer haze has lifted and the leaves are starting to fall. The writing spiders are making MORE babies, help me, but they're writing their testament to Autumn.
Here in the South, I can finally breathe for a moment when summer has finally passed. I can stretch my limbs and feel awake, like a strong cup of coffee kicking in. It's my favorite time of year.
Rooted back to new school year, new clothes, new boyfriends, new leases on apartments, new babies - Autumn has always been my signifier of rebirth - and now, revision.
Last night I pulled out my completed manuscript for the first time in months, having 'seen' what needs to be done to hopefully make it stand out. Looking at it for the first time was frightening, actually. I was nervous that I would be embarrassed by it. Instead I read certain parts and remembered how I felt when I wrote it. I remembered the connection I had with the characters and it all flooded back. I missed them.
I'll be working on it for a while and now I'm okay with that. It's turned into an awkward visit with an old flame.
...He focused his eyes on spreadsheets and heard the latch click. He exhaled in relief and looked up. Ms. Smith was still standing in his office, her back pressed against the door. Her sheer white blouse was unbuttoned to her navel, showing off her lacy, cream colored bra that barely held her breasts. It wasn't that she was unattractive. She was young, single, and willing. It was that he was married, no matter how unwilling his wife seemed. Evan's frown deepened and he swallowed hard.
“Ms. Smith, this is inappropriate. Please leave.” He glared at her, forcing himself not to let an eye wander from her large, doe-eyed gaze.
Instead of complying, she walked closer. “Mr. MacDonald. Evan... I need to tell you something,” she whispered, leaning over the desk, her cleavage directly in Evan's face. The heat from her skin made Evan's body react in ways in which he was immediately ashamed....
