Today I was far more distracted while attempting to write, but I’m so dang close to the goal that it feels forgiveable. I’m really proud of making it this far, considering writing at all has been a strugglebus this year.
Word Count: 1115
He turned his face to the sky, where clouds mottled the starry canopy. The half-moons all seemed dull, even when the wisps of cloud moved away from their faces. He sat for some time upon the broken plaza and piles of charred wood and broken weapons in a silent lament. Trace was once again the Empty God.