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The Muse
It was still early. She shifted in the bed, restless. She was somewhere between drowsy and complete awareness. Words started tumbling into her mind. Thoughts, ideas, fragments all competed with her attention. She wanted to go back to sleep, but if she did, the words would be lost.

She looked over at her husband to see if he was close to waking. He was usually an early riser. She tapped him on the arm and waited. She could hear his soft snuffling. The thoughts and words were coming quicker now, persistant. She pushed his arm a little harder. He yawned and stretched, and noticing I was awake, patted my arm hello.

"I need a pencil and paper," I announced.

"What?" he said in disbelief. "I don't have any paper!"

"Just give me your puzzle pencil and any scrap of paper," I answered.

"You must be writing." he said, rolling his eyes. Getting up, he handed me his pencil and went in search of paper. Handing me a pad he said, "And you can't keep my tablet!"

"I have three new tablets in the living room," I called out as he left the bedroom.

The words came quickly. They seemed to jump from my mind to the pen to the paper. One idea. Another. Phrases and jumbled thoughts. Descriptions and fragments. More words. Pieces of thoughts to stitch together later. Like taking dictation, the sketching out of ideas, I wrote furiously before the flow disappeared
*
Samantha sometimes felt disconnected, separate from reality; on the outside looking in. It didn't matter that she'd worked at the same job for the past 17 years. It also didn't matter that she'd lived in the same house for the past 28 years. Sometimes it just seemed as if she was looking at a dreamscape of her life. Nothing quite clear, everything a little off, as if nothing fit just right. Everyone else around her seemed to have it all together', so why was it so difficult to feel like she actually fit into her skin? Or into her own life?
Sometimes she would see co-workers talking and the words would seem muffled, like she was hearing them from a great distance, or under water. It was really strange.
*
Hmmm.wonder where that one will take me? Maybe Samantha woke up in an alternate universe or something. Or maybe she's just schizofrenic. Other thoughts tumbling around in her head pushed to the forefront.
*
The woman was oblivious to everyone in her vicinity. She was thin and wiry, exuding energy and speaking too loud for comfort. Everyone in the shop could hear her and they were slightly irritated by the volume of her conversation.

She

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