I think I’m secretly creepy. (My son says it’s not so secret.) I have dozens, maybe hundreds, of story snippets and have been grabbing random stuff and typing them up here. Below is one that caught my eye. Kind of an unsettling, serial killer, stream of consciousness piece.
Tonight I’ll see her. I’ll find her at the corner where we first met. She’ll smile when she sees me and ask me for a ride. Walking through the park very late I’ll meet her — taller and thinner this time. She’ll laugh self-consciously when I startle her and we’ll make strained conversation about how unsafe it is at night. At the grocery store, pleased to see me after all these years — we’ll go for a drink and talk of college days until after the sun goes down. Walking her home from a movie we’ll take a shortcut I know through a dark, deserted neighborhood. Hitchhiking, I’ll give her a ride back to town. Her date has dropped her in the middle of nowhere, the bastard, and she is glad to find someone else driving at night on this godforsaken road.