She told a story about a flirty, teasing autograph she received from the author of a book. It brought back memories of my favorite autograph. It was from a singer at a jazz concert. She signed her CD cover with “You were great last night.” I thought that was . . .
Please use the open space below to share your first 50 words on the topic “autograph.”
First 50 Words - Prompts for Writing Practice 
You left your autograph on my heart,
carved into flesh like stone,
indelible, the loops and curves of it
a trail that only love could follow
and so I followed and fell
into the words you wrote,
into the sound of your voice,
the cadence of your breathing
until we were one breath,
one voice,
one name.
“Here is the autograph!”
I raised my hand in triumphant wave . Ravi was playing gilli-danda , with his cronies . As usual. He was the first to turn around .
“You got what ?” He could never stop reacting to my voice . Being a twin endowed him with that ESP. He knew how important this was for me . He casually sauntered up . “Dikha , dikha !”(Show me )
Pretending to be interested , when he is not .Another of his ploys to please me . I could n’t help melt .
“See! S-A-M-E-E-R K-H-A-N. Sameer khan . It is his entire name . ”
One moment there were several pair of eyes lowered and several noses breathing into the piece of school notebook page , in the next , he had snatched it off from my and was racing away , waving it over his head like a victory flag .
“Budhu” He screamed . My nickname . I was rooted to the spot . Frozen . “Hai himmat ?” ( are you brave enough )he screamed , turned .slightly faltered at the sight of my rage filled face .
I bellowed and followed him with all my might .
“I don’t want him to just autograph a piece of paper, that’s so boring!” I exclaimed to my best friend, as we waited at the front lines of a cheering crowd for Johnny Depp’s hand a foot print ceremony at Grauman’s Chinese Theater.
Thirteen years ago, this was the most exciting moment of my life. I was going to be face to face with the pirate himself. I clutched a coffin shaped lighter I’d bought for him as a gift and looked on as he made it across the barricade of fans and paparazzi.
Finally it was my turn.
He looked at me through his purple tinted sunglasses with a smile and raised his Sharpie up, gesturing where he should sign.
“Oh! Here, if you don’t mind!” I pointed to my jeans, right above a tear on my knee.
“Sure,” he said, under his breath. Still smiling and as charming as ever, he knelt down and tugged on the material on my lower thigh slightly, only to create the most treasured pair of $15 jeans I’ll ever have.
Pretty exhilarating moment, if you ask me.