Writing Prompt #1:
Prompt: "At a park bench, an unfamiliar man sits beside you, and glances at you. Unnerved by his presence, you nod. He nods back. Places a briefcase by your feet and walks away . . ."
I glanced at it once. It looked mysterious. Black leather, and about the size of a normal textbook. It made me nervous just looking at it, which made me even more nervous, if possible.
People walked by me, no one seeming to mind, or even notice it (or I) was there. I talked to myself, convinced myself nothing was wrong. Then, I leaned down and touched it. Just one touch.
Suddenly, I was in a field: the old field that my parents used to own in Buckingham. I was looking at my wife. She had a white summer dress on like the one she had had the summer before the car accident. Her eyes shone with love and laughter and the early afternoon sun cast a bright light over her angled features. She laughed and stepped toward me. I reached out to her, p