I like to call this "the vault". When I'm bored, my brain runs simulations of endless stories I could be writing. I like to mentally archive them. They settle, collect a few dust bunnies, until it's time to drag them out. It is infinite with scenes, wisdom, and creative flow. It's very good practice for creative people in my opinion.
They look like big, good, strong hands, don't they? I always thought that's what they were. I couldn't hold on to them. The Nothing pulled them right out of my hands. I failed.
