A woman stood at my window with her arms folded and a golden shield clipped at her waist. She had curly brown hair with light brown skin and freckles across her nose. Her hazel eyes pierced mine, and her lips were pursed from her thoughts.
It’s the subconscious thoughts swirling around your brain that don’t really have a place in everyday conversation. You can’t just discuss your personal philosophies or how much you detest raisins so openly. You can’t even really plan for conversations like this. They just kind of pop up unexpectedly. I think that’s why she stops working on her story, because we have an opportunity to unleash our gooey underbellies, and they don’t often see the light of day.