Every Sunday, I share six sentences from one of my works-in-progress.
Sam’s phone beeped while he was contemplating lunch, and he smiled as he read the responding text: Perhaps the same bird echoed through both of us yesterday, separate, in the evening.
If it was another poem he didn’t know it, but it was still lovely, and he had to look away a moment even though there was no one to see him blush. And what should he say in return — something flirtatious, something serious, something about beauty, something about sex?
Jonty had written his thesis on Shakespeare. He likely knew the plays and sonnets backwards and forwards, so there would be no surprise there.