Snow
+ + +I don’t care if they burn he wrote on his last blank notecard. He’d have to go to the Office Supply Store tomorrow after work.
+He looked at what he’d written. He’d been thinking about this for a while, felt the frustration build slowly like a thundercloud in the back of his mind. He thought he should write something else on the card, but everything he thought of seemed too confessional or too real compromising. He didn’t want anyone, not even the notecards, to know what he was thinking. He decided to try for more of an interview with the paper.
+Why? asked the notecard. Because there is nothing important on any of them he wrote back. What do you mean? You have some good stuff in that top drawer there. He looked in the top drawer. It was stuffed full of notecards in no organization. He could see bits and pieces of thoughts like leaves crunched underfoot in autumn. It will take so much organization he wrote.
+Why is organization important? Remember the trees, how they formed rows without trying. No matter how the ideas fall, they make something. The snow does that too he wrote. It doesn’t try to make anything but it does.
+No the snow is different the notecard was annoyed. The snow is a blank canvas that humans build into shapes or doppelgangers. It makes nothing on its own.
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