I have a lot of story pieces in my head. But they are all just little snippets that carry a feeling or a character, but they aren't enough.
I thought about forcing them into a story. Am I allowed to do so? Shouldn't stories just come from somewhere else, and isn't it our duty, the ones who think they can write, to catch what passes by? My snippets pass by. I didn't really invent any of them, they just popped into my head out of sudden, somewhen. And that's the way it should be, that's the way it has been with stories, but I fear they must have found a nicer head to appear there now. Dear stories, wouldn't you come back to me? I miss you.
She woke up at about 2 p.m. It was always the same, she thought, you spent the night awake, but went to bed in the earliest morning and slept your usual 9 to 10 hours, yet you felt as if you hadn't slept at all. The evening had been worth it, though. A few of her new friends had come round her flat, and they had put on some records and gotten a little bit tipsy after midnight and a few self-mixed cocktails. They had gone outside to get a bit of fresh air, to then stay there for many adventurous hours, wandering the streets and laughing at the moon. "All the memories of the fights and the nights and the blue lights," and passengers and the events that happen in the streets at night- all the parties and some policemen at work...it really had been lovely. She walked into the bathroom and saw a pair of white trainers in the bathtub. She was puzzled- they surely weren't there when she went to bed? Sighing, she switched on her laptop and opened Facebook. "Whoever left his shoes in my bathtub tonight, feel free to collect them somewhen in the afternoon, whenever it suits you. I'll be off somewhen around six."