Found in a journal ...

Sometimes I write and sometimes I don't, but I'm always crafting stories in my head. Stories about the man who crossed the street in front of my car or the girl who served my coffee or the tired voice on the other end of the phone line when I call my child in sick to school. I don't, and won't likely ever, know any of these people, but I create intricate back-stories for them, shaped from the way they carry the tension in their shoulders, or the way they've layered their clothing for the day, or the sligh hitch in the roll of their 'r'. These faceless, nameless people become a rich tapestry to the fantastical stories I write in my head as I weave my way through the everyday mundane.