This is it. My thirteenth drabble. Unlucky thirteen most likely. Can’t think of a thing to write. Nada. Zilch.
Last night, driving home in the dark following the red taillights of a car an idea (sort of) came to me. The car unexpectedly slows. I get too close. The taillights glow hotly, increase in size, the exhaust bellows black smoke. It’s not a car but a dragon, red-eyed, angry, about to breath fire, incinerate both my car and me.
Nope. This is going to be that unlucky thirteenth drabble that I frustratingly cannot write.
Except I just did.
