Stranded

My car refused to go, and so I sat, neighbor to barb-wire and a broken-down barn on a rural highway, waiting for rescue.

I was kicking myself for not grabbing that paperback I passed before leaving home. It's a new author, a new voice; it could have been research, a passing of the time.

Kicking myself, wishing I'd taken my laptop - if I'd only known - since I'd had to up and go, mid-zone. I'd left my WIP hanging. We could have been hanging together.

So I sat there, waiting to be claimed. Wishing this and wishing that, but getting none of it.

Have you ever been stranded? For what did you wish?

Cook's Diner

Your arrival is announced by the tinkle of a bell, as you push the door into smells of fried chicken and fresh-baked pies. Diners' voices fall; their eyes find you. But curiosity does not linger, for their interest is more heavily weighted by deep conversation and common gossip.

You spy your booth in the corner, set off from those already occupied, and approach its solitary offering. The vinyl seat welcomes you with worn comfort as you settle, tucking away thoughts of distraction.

Cook catches your attention from his square kitchen window and you nod. Yes, you'll have the usual. No hurry.

With the touch of a finger, your laptop comes to life. You sip from the cup Suzette just delivered with a quiet smile, access the file and...

What do you write?