Leave it all up in the air.
Outside, the garden is pitch black – strangely devoid of the soft rustling of leaves – lights from passing cars draw brief lines along windows – the air stagnant and warm, the atmosphere hardly excitable.
Inside, fingers wandering silently over the keyboard – feeling the slightly rounded edges of selected keys – pausing at various letters and numbers – hovering, pondering, which ones to strike and which ones not.
In between, a thin grey line separating fantasy from reality; or it could be reality from fantasy, actually. Goes either way, but to different effects at times.
Wonder no more, for writers get a bulk of material from real life for your viewing pleasure: screaming kids running round in circles at reunion dinners; relatives that turn hostile and gladly haul each other to court, Murphy’s law swinging into full action at every other opportunity, guy proposes to his girl through a RM40k highway billboard, Erica Barry choosing Harry Sanborn over Julian Mercer…
It cannot be, but there you go. Splutter.