inward jot

End of day.  Not sure how much I’ve written, word-count-wise, but I’m assured it’s up there.  Coffee made for morrow.  Ready, ready for all to change.  Done with last glass of sparkling, and the writer just thinks, looks right at the xmas tree, knows he needs a nightcap of something, but what.

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mikemadigan

Writer/Blogger - bottledaux.com

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