I apologize in advance for the self-indulgence of my Six Word Friday post this week (prompt: spring). As I’ve been learning to leave only the essence of my characters on the pages of my novel (reserving their volumes of exposition for my angst only), I’ve been pursuing any writing exercise which helps me describe them succinctly. Hence my latest attempt:
Our first spring, we were eighteen.
The mud kicked from the tires
to splay across your right cheek,
dotting a map to a place
neither of us should ever go.
I know you don’t know these people yet, and that you only ever will if I can one day succeed in the herculean task of hefting the weight of them from inside this computer to the tips of your fingers and the palms of your hands.