Write

The cat lingers while I ponder. My constant companion on my endeavours. Clack clack clack go the keys on my computer. Words forming like dandelions blowing upon the breeze. Words floating, touching of water and joining the ocean.

The cat lounges lazily, eyes me wearily, casually, as if she is my muse. She's not. My muse is something much deeper. Something much darker. Something that left scars.

I lift my glass of Scotch to my lips. The ice has already melted. Pause. Linger.

The cat snoozes. The word I am looking for eludes me again. I finish the Scotch.

Write.