I used to write drabbles.
They were unhappy things, a product of life in a place where there is always the fear of an unexpected and violent death.
When I was young we all feared annihilation in nuclear flames. As an adult, I knew that just looking at another motorists could incite road rage and a fatal shooting.
Drabbles were a release for my existential angst.
Two years ago I retired and moved from the US to Spain.
Live is good here.
My muse has left me.
The sun is coming up. I think I'll go and get another beer.
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