Fragment

Writers write.

So they say. 

Writers write. Every day.

Write what you know. Tell your story.

But I am not a writer and my story is so very dull. 

So let me tell you another one. A story about some people I don’t know at all.

Winter couldn’t be bothered. 

It couldn’t be bothered to be a proper winter. It couldn’t find the energy to make it snow and make the landscape into a fairy tale. It couldn’t be bothered to destroy the sun properly. It just sat back and let it rain.

Rain could be bothered. Rain always had the energy. Rain was eternal.

They lived and loved in a house. She was always to cold and he was always too hot. This is a problem compounded by Winter and the central heating that dries us out and lets us down.

He sat in a chair that wasn’t very comfortable and thought about his life. He thought about what could have happened to him but never did. He thought about the choices he had made and where they had led him. He thought that because there was nothing good on the television.