For an instant it felt like the heavy gates opened, like the light is shining through the crack. Like it is time to wake up. It’s better to wake up they say, better that than to come to.

“I’m glad to hear that you are writing” she said. After a considerable silence, she added, “What a horrible price I’ve paid for your writing.”

Outside the rain kept coming. Cold, gray, hard driving rain from the north. Winter rain. Charlie stood outside the market, tried to remember what he knew he had forgotten, gave up and ran through the rain to the car.

Three easy pieces, run a little, walk a little, get on home.

A Six Word Story