THE END.

[pjthompson]

Just a wee story, like pulling teeth the whole way, but it’s the first time I’ve finished a work of fiction in a very, very long time.

It was always like dreaming for me, something I couldn’t wait to get back to each day, but it hasn’t been like that since before my mother died. I don’t know if the sit-butt-on-chair-and-start-pulling-teeth method is my new reality or just the painful first steps to a full recovery, but I’ll take it either way, or any half-assed step between.

Now for the next story.

Mirrored from Better Than Dead.