rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,


My right wrist is sore. I hope I'm not getting carp all tunnel syndrome (everybody start writing it that way and maybe it will end up on The Eggcorn Database.) It certainly feels as though carp had been swimming through my arm.

So the moon's lit rind went away, dulling the silhouetted pines, and a breeze came to cool the heated ground. Crickets continue to chirp in the orchard, but my yard is silent. There have been no deer for several nights, and I've neither seen nor heard a raccoon for weeks. The Heap O' Cats occupies the back porch tonight. Perhaps small beasts have grown rare as well, and mom cat thinks hunting is futile. Or maybe she peered in my window and saw the big bag of cat food and figures she's set for now. Whatever the reason, the cats are my only company tonight, unless I count the moths whirling about the porch light. Long ago my Friday nights were eventful. No more. Maybe someday I'll go somewhere again. But I'm not betting on it.

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