Stay up late into the starry night with only cicadas for company and sleep well into the morning, sunrise already flecking the mountains outside your window. Across the valley, majestic ranges tower with foliage on fire and golden light across the cliffsides. A storm front drags itself along the periphery, painting rainbows at regular intervals. The clouds lift, pulling two double rainbows behind it. They stretch from one end of the valley to the other and you think maybe this is where the treasure is, after all.
Coming out of the depths is always a strange reach back into reality. You peer out from behind a corner, cowering to see what mess you've made, clean up your wounds and look for bandages big enough to cover them. Paint a smile on top of the frail surface you've repaired. One step at a time.
The word processor lies quiet in front of you, waiting. It knows your steps are cautious now, measured, no longer vivid and reckless, no longer as colorful as they were in the midst of the storm. But they move forward. They pick up the pieces and put the story back together again. You reach your fingers toward the keyboard. One step at a time.
Start again.
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