Comed

I combed my fingers through curly strands of auburn hair, twisting thoughts into queues for what next to say. Where was the last sentence, did I leave it in the corner again or perhaps its resting on top of my head with my glasses. Tighter and tighter the twist becomes, pulling from each follicle strands of words tied with knotted verbs and bowed adjectives, until finally the spitted paragraph marks the page.

 

 

inspired by the prompt ‘comed’ at typetrigger.com

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