Story from 130830

writing story 1970-01-01 00:00

%date 130830 00:00

You weren't new to the faint orange glow. Perhaps every now and again it mystified you with it's magic, but no more than that. Even before you started, it wasn't something new, or different. It just was. Like an afternoon spent in sleep is never done for the first time. Somehow the first time slips into the next and what you've got is a speed, because it's easier to continue going faster than it is to slow down, take some time to catch your breath or evaluate what you're doing. Nobody had time for that. Nobody wanted time for that. And even if I had the time for that, my circumstances wouldn't be too different. I'm not going to pretend I didn't like being enchanted.