"What word does this spell?"
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"And this one?"
She just shook her head sullenly as she continued to chat on the phone, dividing her attention between the unnamed voice on the other line and myself.
"And this word, what does this spell?"
Once again, she shook her head in disappointment.
As a child just learning the alphabet, I had a peculiar hobby of attempting to throw together random letters to make words. I vividly remember sitting at the dining room table and casting out the entire alphabet on hand written post-it notes as I randomly selected letters and threw them together in an attempt to generate words.
"What does this read?"
"Nothing the word or nothing at all?"
"Nothing at all."
I think my main problem was my fascination with the end of the alphabet, specifically with the characters x, y, z. Long strands of words would be formulated with the key focus upon these three basic characters.
The more I'd fail in my attempt to make words, the more adamantly I would string together longer words in hopes of a more grandiose creation.
They would always become longer and longer.
In all the time I spent throwing together those letters, I never once made a single word. I think my failure resulted from a focus on the end result, I was so focused upon the end that I never really...
He immediately dropped the pen and closed the diary upon hearing footsteps.
"Kiryak, you there? Kiryak?" hollered out the heavy-laden voice from the dark doorway outside of the small confided barracks. The disembodied voice soon gave way to the image of a man standing in the doorway, a large broad man with green fatigues.
"You know what I'd do? I mean, if I had my god@$!* choice? I'd just be a catcher in the rye and all..."