Tuesday, November 2, 2010

NaBloPoMo1: Island.

The first thing that came to mind was a cup, no, a carafe of coffee. The second, a pen.

Wind blew sea spray across the bow of the ferry where she stood among the cars, bringing her back with a stinging salt slap to the face. The carafe of coffee and the pen would have to wait until this frigid journey ended.

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