The Ground

She was level-headed, feet firmly on the ground, steady and reliable. That was what drew me to her. She would be the rock. I could be the flitting butterfly. A perfect team.

When she started acting crazy, going out to bars, dressing in revealing tops, my first thought was it must be a brain tumor. I . . .

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “the ground.”

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Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

2 thoughts on “The Ground”

  1. Every morning, she hit the ground running, but not today. She had not been able to sleep well last night. All the drinking and eating at the office party had made her sick, and she had spent more time in the loo than in bed. She was drained, weak and nauseated. She sat up in bed, and her chocolate lab was eyeing her suspiciously probably wondering why she hadn’t gotten out of bed by this time. She petted his head and reached for the phone plopping back on her pillow again.

  2. The ground, the rock.
    If it wasn’t for him, heaven forbid!!
    Every morning , that winter, the old man would emerge from the doorway, looking for the rickshaw wallah. Had it not been for Gafoor, who most patiently, took him around, protectively, we would have most certainly lost him in the fog

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