Blank Pages

That's all it is. Each day falling upon the next like blank pages in a book waiting to be written. Each day is but a chapter, each hour like a page being marred with dark, bitter ink, scratched hastily onto each page, and with each work another gain of sand falls in life's hourglass. The days blur to form a mess of tangled plotlines, characters dropping in and out of the story as they're needed. And the author... Well, that's yet to be determined.