Being Honest With Fiction

It is early on a Sunday morning. The sunrise is new to the sky and the world is quiet like a church before members of the clergy arrive to prepare for the congregation. The sun is up and so am I.I am driving west to say the least and making my way into “The City that Never Sleeps” to pull a wage and pay down the bills which continue to pile up every month.The quiet is loud for some reason, as if to mean the soft eeriness of the moment is fitting and matching of news, which came to me last night. I could call the news unexpected and yet, I assume there is something more cosmic to the ideas of personal foreshadowing. I say there are signs and that there are messages that forewarn us about how something is on the way.I could feel this too.There was something missing or out of place, as if the spiritual world was reaching out to me.I could feel this, as if something out there was trying to tell me, “keep an open mind, kid” and how something is about to change.I believe in things like…