A heron stood shyly on the bank of Jordan Lake, frozen, as if it were waiting to receive something. I watched it for a mere second or two from the car as we whizzed over the bridge. Guion was talking about music and I was listening and watching. The heron was still, patient. I wondered when I would be that quiet.
When he laughs, it electrifies my spirit and sharpens my focus. I like making him laugh, but part of me likes watching him laugh–detached from me, as he has an experience that I cannot fully understand but can yet wholly appreciate.
A mix of the mundane and the everyday fictional.
Little Stories 
Fear not, your fans will follow you joyfully to your new life.