|Wassily Kandinsky, 1921|
That's it: to write.
Easier said than done, as a matter of fact. There are no restraints imposed by this meme. That's why I love it sometimes, and hate it other times, depending on my muse, the state of my health, and other factors.
This week is Mag 102, and I'm going to give it my best shot.
I didn't mean to hit her with the hammer. It was just there, beside her red shoe, and I've always hated those red shoes, the way she kicks them off to leave them scattered around the house so I'll trip over them. Her clothing, too — that yellow dress with the blue stripes and black shoulders, how I hate that dress! And her silly black hat with the lace brim. She says she's bothered by the sun! I don't believe it. I've never believed it. And look at those things she left on my chair. On my chair! How dare she? She thinks she owns the whole place, when everyone knows it was my loft first. When I saw the hammer there, beside that stupid red shoe, I just thought I'd pick it up and put it away. That's all I intended to do. She never puts things away. So I put her away.