A View From Afar (Part 2)

Carrie paused a moment, trying very hard not to loose her composure. She wipes her eyes with a napkin, then straightens her form out, sitting back further in her chair.

"I'm sorry".  A glint of embarrassment showed in her face.

"It's okay."  That all I could say, a little anxious about on how this was going. I put my open left hand, facing palm up, on the table. She placed her small hand in mine. She squeezed with a strength that surprised me, with all the power her small lithe frame could muster.

"I wasn't always like this, you know."  She said.  Her face seemed to show the frustration I know had to be there.

The Genesis Of A Muse

As long as I have been writing, something has inspired me to put the words down one way or the other. My very first time I tried a hand in writing something creative, I scribed a poem for a pretty girl in my class. 

Her name was Carmen and I thought I would marry her, something that usually doesn't cross the mind of a ten year old boy. She moved away soon after, but I wrote a few stories on how she was a princess and I was the knight that rescued her.

So that was my first muse.