“When the words don’t make sense on the tongue, they unravel at the tip of a pen. Pressing down on the first line, the pen forgot to write. A furrowed brow and lump in the throat, the pen begins to shake. A little ink wouldn’t help this time. Some feelings are sometimes to tremendous to squeeze out a ball point pen.
Pen laid onto the oak desk, too tired to write. Suitcase, the dark edges frayed from years of abuse, thrown onto the carefully made bed. Open and exposed to the world, it began to be filled, once again, with the minimal possessions of the small hotel room facing busy streets of New York, New York.
The luggage groaned as it’s teeth were zipped together. Keys sang quietly, clinking together as they were lifted from the bedside table. The worn straps of the old bag filled with the weight of someone’s worldly possessions, threatened to give into the load, but failed to follow through.
Old door gave a creek as it opened and shut. Footsteps seemed loud in the empty hallways and silent as they were drowned in the sound of pouring rain falling from the night sky. With a little sigh, another, rather grand adventure began.”
Thank you for reading! I will be sharing more of this story in the future! Leave a like and a comment letting me know what you think! I wish you all a wonderful and warm night.