July 2nd – dusk.
I’m exhausted arriving home from work. My mind is mush so writing will have to wait until I get some rest. As the sun sets on a beautiful day, I wonder why I made the decision to write fiction now. If I started ten years ago, I might have become an accomplished author. Before sleep takes me, I remind myself there’s nothing wrong with working toward that goal today.
“It’s never too late to be what you might have been.”