The Unwritten Words …

I used to be pretty good at Scrabble. I could always come up with some random word nobody’d ever think of, and somehow it fit just where it was supposed to. Lately? Not so much. Lately, it seems I’m waiting on words, the right ones, as if there are such a thing, and they refuse to come.

They sit at the surface, mocking and goading and knowing my struggle. Sometimes they dance across the dusty floor of my mind and spin and shake with laughter because they know how good they are. They know I’l...