Friday Freewrite

What’s Friday Freewrite? Find out here.

He imagined what the meeting would be like1, and he cried. He hadn’t met her yet, and already he cried. Enough premature emotional ejaculation and he was fairly certain there would be no tears left to shed for the event itself.

He tirelessly rallied against the imperfections of others2 because he secretly harbored a grudge against the imperfections in himself.

He gazed out the tiny double-paned plastic porthole3, taking in the landscape below, ripples and...