Distractions

Distractions

I can’t write Our pug is snoring, his nasal congestion driving me insane. “Out!” I yell. Doesn’t he know I am in the middle of writing an action scene? I drag my hand down my cheek and adjust the mess of hair I had hastily twisted into a sloppy bun hours before. The dog sighs and exits. I love him, but I can’t think when he’s snoring. I start to type. Our lab takes advantage of the free dog bed near my chair and lies down. An odor...

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