The doctor returned from his lunch break, a carefully regimented respite to relax his brain by exploring the nuances of the campus with a sandwich and coffee, to find his microscope wasn’t working. The door was locked. Nothing seemed disturbed. He tried a few things before calling in for help. “IT, this is Sam.” “Hi Sam, Dr. Florigen. My microscope isn’t working.” “Can we run some tests over the phone or should I run over?”
If “The Story” is my writing end goal, why distract myself with so much? The rowing makes sense because it’s good to be healthy. Why not compress it down? Spend that time studying fiction? Read the classics? Take classes, write drafts, send them out for criticism, revise, and learn the craft? Well, the thing about John (left) and Trishna (right) is that they’re two shades of our reality spectrum, and their story references it all.
“So my friend Jane applied for a contract here, and she’s, like, really good- much better at doing any sort of advanced thinking stuff than I’ve ever been, and she didn’t get it- the agency said that management went in a different direction and, you know, I’m just, well, I wanted to ask you about it- can I?”
Her manager’s office was filled with military awards.
“I understand, Sam. Lisa won’t favor me divulging this.”