I’m writing again. It feels good.
The Star Destroyer launched itself off of the wooden blocks and blew everything away in three, two, so I wedged my potato fingers into one of the carefully carved holes and held on for dear life while cosmic smithereens flitted past my face. I told Darth Vader I didn’t like this game. Maybe because the launch pad was really just a play set. Maybe because the shadow it cast on my arms triggered my trypophobia. Maybe because it was a bad guy ship.
2.13.2012
