At A Glance

Here's the thing: Writing is hard. Writing is the best thing that has happened to me in my young twenty some years of living... but it is a challenge. Part of the challenge is simply to write. At A Glance documents my daily writing activities, mainly the character studies I write when I pass a stranger with a certain flare.

These studies are completely random, grammar is fleeting, and all are first draft thoughts:


DALE
Short man, big coat. Waddle-like walk, small limp. Wanders throughout the coffee shop seeking a similar warmth in another's eyes as he finds in his coffee cup. Mumbles, out of fear/shame. Repeats words to gain assurance. While seeking out a pair of eyes and kind words, he trips on a rug, further falling into a case of the Mondays. If only he had finished his laundry this weekend he could have found better confidence this morning while getting dressed. The New Balance sneakers were a mistake. He should stop using the word sneakers.
His gym bag bounces off his hip with each new step, and he wonders how the same motion can occur for minutes and yet in a millisecond of realization a problem is created. The bouncing is obnoxious, the bouncing will cause a bruise, and if he had lost that extra twenty pounds there wouldn't be a bounce.
At least he has his eyes. Everyone loved his eyes. That bullshit about how they lead to your soul used to work in college, and he liked that time in his life very much. He didn't seek gazes in college. He didn't have this fucking gym bag. His eyes, he knew, were the only honest organ he had left. Are your eyes organs? He should really know things like that... Idiot. Your eyes don't lie about gut instinct or quality or emotion. If you have emotion, your eyes will show it. He used to be great at crying, but he also doesn't miss it. He does miss, however, the compliments that come the next morning when you're arm has gone numb underneath her perfectly messy hair. They always loved his eyes the next morning. Probably because he was honest then.