Write about: the twitch.
Not the greatest of days. Things kind of went off the rails around lunchtime between me and Max, a delightful combination of tiredness, overstimulation, and a two year old trying to assert his will. Once I eventually got him out of the house to spend some time in town things improved significantly, but it wasn't a particularly fun stretch.
He's sleeping soundly now though, and I'm enjoying sitting by the fire and trying to come up with a writing prompt and what to write for it. Well, not especially enjoying the coming up with the prompt part.
Something is bound to come to me eventually. It always does.
Ah, there we go. Thanks, random muscle that won't stop twitching for no apparent reason.
The spasm in her leg was driving her crazy, one twitch at a time. She felt as though everyone in the room was aware of it - indeed it must have been impossible to miss - and they were all struggling mightily to refrain from commenting.
It wasn't even occurring at regular intervals. If that had been the case she could have at least braced herself each time it came back around. But no, it would go off three times in a row before going silent for nearly a minute. Then once, a ten second break, again, twenty second reprieve, one more time.
She knew that if it went on much longer she would crack a tooth or burst a blood vessel. Perhaps, she thought as she eyed the office supplies that lay within reach, I can just cut it off. It would have to stop then, right?
Then again... probably not.