Here are some things that have been saved in my Drafts folder with the idea that I will one day expand them into full blog posts (since they have all been hanging around for at least six months, it seems unlikely):
I’m always bad at dealing with the end of vacations. I appreciate the familiarity of my own bed. I like the freedom to cook my own food. I love the people who smile at me on a daily basis. Still, my thoughts on those last few days almost always hover around plots to steal just a little more time. Or how to escape to do it again.
The fact that I come home every time has nothing to do with me not being devious enough.
For four days, Rheida passed the fat, marbled candle where it sat in the middle of the kitchen table and tried to remember all the good reasons to light it.
Her brother had said it was scented with something when he gave it to her. It was some flower or another, rich and a little heavy, but she wasn’t sure if it was meant to soothe or wake her up. She wondered if she should light it when she passed it in the morning, groggy and stumbling, then wondered again when she was getting ready for bed, still too alert for the thick darkness outside.
“In retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have set it on fire.”
Leo stopped, finger hovering over the arrow button on the remote control, and slid a wary, wide-eyed look toward Sadie. Her face was mostly turned away, facing the television that had caught on an infomercial for a new wonder knife that was slicing paperclips like clay. They’d been flipping channels for a while now, not really focusing on anything, but enjoying the noise around them, and commenting idly on the melodrama of a television moment caught out of context. He tried to remember exactly how long it had been, and exactly when he had gotten lost in the lambent lights and lost track of what she was saying.
He had a bad habit of drifting off on lazy, pleasant afternoons, letting his mind slide where it wanted. He was used to people slipping ridiculous statements into the conversation to catch him. But he was pretty sure this was the first time she’d caught him. Glancing down at her, resting her shoulder against his side, he expected to see her flick a look up toward him, smiling at the delicious imaginary clang of her trap snapping shut.
Sadie stayed facing the television. She pointed toward the screen. “Why would you want to do that?” she asked.
“What?” Leo asked uneasily.