Some Kind of Story, Part Two

She'd always played it pretty safe.
She could be spontaneous about the little things.
The midnight food runs, the impulse buys, the making of friends and the trusting of those friends.

But love?

Love was not something she ever did without thinking.
In fact, she thought about it a lot.
And she wondered if maybe she did a little too much wondering and dreaming and writing.

And not enough leaping.

1 comment:

Bob Z. said...

My plight, exactly