This is a concept I've had for awhile. I don't think I will ever truly have a story attached to it, but it's an idea I think about when I drive. Sometimes a prompt is just a scene. The darkness was an ocean. In the headlights, only the road existed. Nothingness stretched out for miles in all directions, broken only by the small islands of light that might contain a house or a small patch of grass.

Years ago, I put it upon myself to write a short story every day for October. It was a made decision, but I did it. Subsequent years, I attempted to do it again while only doing a short story a week. Now that I am getting back into writing I owe it to myself to try again. They will be as long as the story in my head decides it should be.

Michigan Rep. Debbie Dingell is introducing a bill to nullify Trump’s executive order renaming Lake Ontario.

Here we are again. I return from my hiatus of writing and continue to etch my words with the ones from before. It's been awhile since I felt the joy of writing, but I'm starting to remember why I do it. Sure, I have some stories that I want to tell, but there's a more important reason. I want to tell the stories to people.

ALT: a man in a suit and tie is standing in front of a wall with framed pictures on it

ALT: a black cat is drinking milk from a white bowl in a kitchen sink