"Hey Siri. Flip a coin."
All the time, I would take my burden-the weight of choice- and give it to Siri.
Sometimes it was as light as a feather (red or blue)
Sometimes it was heavy as bricks (stay or break up)
Poor Siri.
"Hey Siri. I'm sorry."
Posted in response to the challenge Coin.
The first time I heard her voice I saw a library. An enclosed little nook with a creaking wooden table, the color of the wood changing from honey amber to deep mahogany under the flickering candlelight.
i love writing.
i loved writing.
until i started thinking.
for me, writing was my everything, i think
my way to an escape, my way to a love story, my way to another life.
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