Nervous nibbling of frayed fingernails. Hopping, half-hopefully, semi-smiling from side to side, drawing deep on cheap cigarette (not that any fags are inexpensive these days – perhaps it’s designing the gruesome anti-smoking warnings that makes them cost so much?)
Giggling, gracelessly, despite the litheness of his long legs when he moves, moodily, meaning to appear arrogantly acerbic, but instead evidently empty, envious of everyone else who seems to calm, so content, so clearly complete.
[73 words]
(c) Jane Davis, 2020
I took the title of this one from one of Allison’s recent posts, basing it on someone I saw at a bus stop last week. It’s a bit shorter than many of the other posts in this series because my five stray minuteses only seem to turn up when I’m writing by hand!
five stray minutes 
This is precisely the type of practice we should all do. Observance in the moment, and getting it down reveals jewels for polishing later.
I take this opportunity to doff my cap to you for being the one who passed on the idea of timed minutes for writing to me in the first place!
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Well it wasn’t exactly my idea to begin with, Allison – but I’m glad you’re enjoying it! I just need to write more (and also read the stuff you guys are writing!) But I’m going to keep on writing my bits to bounce off someone else’s title. At the moment I’m eyeing up “Anachronism” (such a lovely word). No idea what I’d write about that, but I’m sure something will come to me!
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Interesting to note that you, too, get hooked on a word (or the word hooks you), and feel compelled to surround it with others.
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