The Break of...

I love getting up with the fishes uh, make that -- birds.  It's dark; only the yellow glow of tiny nightlights to point the way.  The house is still but for the beating heart of the clock in the living room.  Bishop wriggles and snorts, begging for my undivided attention.  The coffee pot grinds and growls to life, and suddenly -- it hits!  A thought so immediate, so intrusive it bursts through the silence like lightening in a summer sky --

"When real people hearing shocking news, does whatever they are holding really crash to the floor, or is that just a Hollywood thing?"

And so begins my day as a writer...