Little Boat : Day 51 #100daysofwriting

Lying in bed
Pretending
That the rain
Isn't rain
But the ocean
Lazily lapping
Against my little boat
Like Owl and Pussy Cat
I'm floating to my future
I can feel
The sun
Smell the salt
Warmth radiates
The fantasy smashes
With urgent sirens
And I'm back in bed
And it's raining.

Real? Day 20 #100daysofwriting

I actually hit something with my car tonight. I keep writing about it and deleting it. It was small, like smaller than a cat. It appeared to be oval and black. It darted in front of me, I heard a thump and then nothing. I drove up and down, peering into the dark rain for the body; but nothing.

Did it dart? Or did it blow? Was it even an animal? Was it nothing?

I felt bad. A police van drove past with sirens wailing while I drove slowly down the road. I felt like I'd committed a crime.
I wish I didn't feel so awful. If I'd found a pet I was fully prepared to take it to the vet. I'd imagined the plastic bags, the apologies. I tried to do right. But what if I did no wrong in the first place?

I really should sleep.