When Danny finally got home, the dog greeted him by lifting her head and huffing once, then on recognizing him laid her head back down with a dumb smile and one and a half tail wags. Danny walked over and scratched behind the dog’s ears.

The dog is not the sidekick.

Danny sat in a waiting room.

Ah, buckets, I forgot where I was.

He glanced upwards and muttered under his breath, “Wow, worst sentence written by any author ever.”

Danny stared at the sword. The black blade shimmered and seemed to move ever so slightly in one direction–like clouds. The entire sword appeared to be made of a dark wood inlaid with thin swirls of gold, silver, and several metals he didn’t recognize: a metallic blue, a stony red, and a semi translucent green. The four colors mesmerized him as he traced their swirling current from hilt to tip. Finally, he set the sword back in the amazon box atop the picnic table.

Danny Rocket grew up in Santa Barbara, California and moved to Boise, Idaho when he finished middle school. But that was years ago.

He sat in one of the comfy chairs of a Starbucks just a few miles from home with a mocha. One week after graduating high school and he still didn’t have a college picked out, let alone a career. It wasn’t that he was an indecisive kid, he just had so many grandiose ideas about how he was going to change the world, that he never settled on a way to actually accomplish any of them.

So many thoughts, and none of them seem important.

Time optimization. It’s 6:14, and I’m waiting for the bus. If I crafted my mornings better, I could reduce pre-bus slack. I wish there was a way to drive in and bus home. After driving in for a few days, I’ve remembered the freedom I get from driving in, but maybe that’s just because I have a good set of audiobooks. Once I exhause Boise Public, I’ll be bored again, and I can’t write things while I drive. Why isn’t there any good dictation app out there yet?