I miss my story. I miss the characters and their lives. I miss being wrapped up in the "what ifs" and "what nows" of every movement. I miss word counting and page numbering.
I feel like they've taken on lives of their own and gone on without me. If I met them today, I'd hardly know them. Would I recognize them? Not sure they'd recognize me. I'd like to think we would all come running together in slow motion, embrace and live happily ever after. I'd like to think that anyway.
The story waits in a box. I packed it up with hopes of moving to a new home. I'm not moving and the story still waits in a box. I hope it misses me too. I hope it remembers me when I find it again.