Led into the story, by the almost subconscious

Poetry: No End (To The Endless Days)

Image courtesy of Clark Young on Unsplash

How foolish of me to have left my pencil at home, I had been using it for my meditative writing class, which I may tell you about later.

Instead tonight I have to use the whodunit scoring pencils; perhaps the writing ought instead to be a game of revealing clues, or maybe it already is.