Not if but when

Nervously, he made his approach.  Step followed slow, wavering step, as if crossing a narrow bridge without sides.  His chest tightened and his hands curled as he drew ever closer.  His breathing became shallow and his vision narrowed to a point right ahead. He seemed to float, as if carried, over the last remaining reason to go back and so, he sat down at his table by the window, to write again.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s