At some point while grading the past essay I crossed the threshold into “sleepy,” so even though I have lots of work to do by Monday (and not much Saturday to work with this weekend), I am calling it quits for today and going to bed.
In the meantime: I was cleaning some document shortcuts off my desktop, including some assignments various students had emailed me, and I found this, under the title “ending”:
At the end (or very near it) she drops the book and runs. We see the look of realization on her face, the swing of her arms as she races to catch up with him before it’s too late. The wind blows the pages and leaves scuttle past.
Who is she? What book has she dropped? What, exactly, is she realizing?
I have absolutely, positively no clue.
The fact is I may not have had a clue when I typed this. I get little flashes and think, “Oooh, shiny, must write it down so I can do something with it someday.” And they don’t necessarily have stories formed behind them yet, or else I would have more extensive notes behind them.
But they usually have some emotion behind them, and what frustrates me is that I don’t know what the emotion here is, whether it’s a happy or sad ending. Which means, much as this fragment intrigues me, that intrigue is only a source of frustration, because the spark itself is missing.
(What’s interesting, too, is that it’s more cinematic than anything, isn’t it?)