Let’s Talk about the Limiting Nature of Time in Writing

The Nature of Writing Time

The rope tightened around the beam. Brady turned his cap backward and hit the accelerator. As the shed fell a ghost of dust and roof debris lingered in the air for just long enough to register to an observer’s eye.

A phone rang inside Mrs. Landrey’s house. She rocked forward in her chair and when the effort seemed ridiculous, she settled back and let it ring.

Joline adjusted her backpack. In a single smooth and thoughtless moment she raised the kickstand and pedaled onto the road. A half a tick later the sky seemed to trade places with her feet. She didn’t hear it happening.

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