The doctor returned from his lunch break, a carefully regimented respite to relax his brain by exploring the nuances of the campus with a sandwich and coffee, to find his microscope wasn’t working. The door was locked. Nothing seemed disturbed. He tried a few things before calling in for help. “IT, this is Sam.” “Hi Sam, Dr. Florigen. My microscope isn’t working.” “Can we run some tests over the phone or should I run over?”
“You know, this can be hard work, but at the end of the day, it’s not too bad. We’re not diggin’ ditches or doin’ brain surgery.”
“Yeah, beats retail.”
Jane, and her driver buddy Jim, were headed to their first delivery on a cold morning.
“But you know somethin’? You’ve got more brains than all a’ us. You should be goin’ places.”
“Yeah, should.” She slouched in the seat and continued reading her technical book.
If “The Story” is my writing end goal, why distract myself with so much? The rowing makes sense because it’s good to be healthy. Why not compress it down? Spend that time studying fiction? Read the classics? Take classes, write drafts, send them out for criticism, revise, and learn the craft? Well, the thing about John (left) and Trishna (right) is that they’re two shades of our reality spectrum, and their story references it all.