The more she runs, the more the dog chases her, until she's finally curled up in a ball on the couch giggling as the dog licks her ears.
I open the door and startle a cardinal into flight. It glides across the pavement like a drop of blood.
Fireflies dip in and out of the hydrangea bushes.
The voice recognition software built into my computer twists my words out of shape sometimes, but for the most part it's very helpful. What I need to get used to is speaking aloud as I work; how will it affect my writing on the occasions when I use it?
The tomato sauce on the pizza bagel is a watery paste, something tomato-ish, and I can still taste the cold bite of the freezer at the heart of the bagel.
Plastic animals camp on the windowsill. They've crossed the cool plain of the air conditioning vent and now have an unbroken view of metal and concrete canyons.
After finally turning off the TV, they start up a drawing contest and ask me to be the judge. It feels weird though to assign scores to their artwork, and they get exasperated with my reluctance.