The Porcupine Hours

My quills are up.

Sharp, steely spines of exposed nerve all flayed out to protect an anxious underbelly.

I don’t enjoy these days.

My writing is jerky, plots hiccup, characters look up from the page and warn, “Do not freaking touch me!”

I pray, may these porcupine hours be brief and fleeting.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe