I’m at a loss for words. For some unknown reason I can’t think of a thing to say. The cat doesn’t have my tongue. My lips aren’t sealed. I’m just drawing a blank. I rummaged around all morning, looking under synapses and behind neurons, hoping to find an old idea that might spark a thought. No luck.
So I did what I usually do in these situations, I watched the cursor blink and listened to the coffeemaker — it was busy burbling and roiling. I like listening to the coffeemaker, it’s soothing. I pretend it’s my head percolating with fresh ideas. It’s such a happy, hopeful sound, unlike a train whistle which is utterly forlorn. Air raid sirens, too — those give me goose bumps they’re so creepy.
But the coffeemaker is a giddy little chatterbox. I sat and listened contentedly as I waited for a thought to occur. Now, look at the time, and I’m still waiting. It’s possible I’ve been stood up.
I, uh, guess you have, too. Sorry.
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