Semi-Daily Scribbles

Sam rehearsed it five times before she punched in the number. Even if a live voice answered, as opposed to a recorded one, she was prepared to launch into her message, leaving no space for conversation. After four rings, Sam spoke in a clear, even voice. She wanted a bit of herself to be preserved like an artifact in a time capsule.

"Rain is coming and I need to stay three steps ahead of it. I won't be here tomorrow. I'm adding my drop to the big bucket. Ciao."

Feeling relief spread through her body, Sam caught in the palm of her hand beads of moisture rolling off her chin. The transformation began as soon as Sam recited her goodbye into the phone. She was surprised at how quickly she was adapting to the change in the weather, but leaving a little puddle behind would not throw off her stroke. A gulf needed crossing, and then Sam would be returned to the tranquility and warmth of the original source.