There is a fluffy, long, and noisy bee in my room as I am preparing to write this; and much like her, I am struggling to find a path. The bee is zigzagging up and down trying to find a crack small enough to set itself free.
Fun fact, I am allergic to bees, the fear keeps me still on my chair while the insect flies around me desperately. Its wings are fighting to keep it in the air and when the noise approaches me, I duck on my chair and make myself smaller. Another fun fact, I am not small for a woman, I could be two men. The bee fell silent, should be the right moment for me to get up and open the window and set it free.
Quickly I get up, ducking, scared of the bee, I open the yellow curtains and then both sides of the large window. I look outside and the sky is gray, the spring rain has stopped, and I see the mountains separating us from the next country up north. The bee remains silent, I know it is still in my office, the window wide open, is it scared to go out?
I sat down to talk about the first month of this project, but the bee stole my attention, and much like her, I am lost inside an enclosed space of my own head, looking for a small aperture to finally leave. Once a week I drip a little bit of my brain juice into this blog, hoping my ideas will leave my head and materialize as short stories, perhaps someday even long ones.
The bee did not find its way out, I will close the curtains now, the gray sky is being cut by the stubborn sun that insisted on shinning, stabbing the fat clouds floating west. The sunlight bothers me a little and reflects on my screens. Did it leave while I came back to my desk?
I am having a lot of fun, five short stories after, feels a lot, but I still have tons of brain slurry to drip in the next weeks and months to come.
I am enjoying committing to this, to myself, finally.
