Fiercely, the screen nudged its light upon my downcast eyes as I wrote, whimpering for my attention. But I didn’t give in. It wasn’t time yet.
The car, knowing, or thinking it knew, my destination, purred at every curve — until I turned at the corner of Highland Street and Main, where it almost jolted.
It rolled and swerved across the page, furiously transcribing in purple all kinds of thoughts and words that were running amok and wanted to get out and run free, almost playing a game
where the pen pulled the words, which in turn pulled the thoughts that originate in my soul.
couldn’t help myself, could have written more but ran out of space
