First Lines, 06/11/18
[Photo by Lasse Møller on Unsplash]
First lines of the novel I was far too busy to write today:
"'Honey, just come to bed,' said Joan. 'You'll be more comfortable.'
It was nearly 4:30 a.m., and Bill had been writhing on the bedroom floor for hours. For the first time in weeks, he could feel the warm pain radiating from the bruises on his forearms, a hungry throbbing in his veins.
Logically, he knew this would pass. He knew, with time, he would be able to entertain another thought. But it had been 4:30 for hours. Time stood as still as a clot, a clogged needle.
And Bill wasn't in that bedroom. He was riding a pipeline that was closing in on him. He was squirming at the edge of a tornado.
But, having just turned 40, he was determined to get his life back.
'Baby, come to bed,' Joan repeated."
— Damien Willis
June 11, 2018
