Light of a Racist

“What do you do here all by yourself?” he asked me. 

I just write. Nonsense. Stories. Articles. Quick whips. Grocery lists. 

I just write. 

Most of it is probably nothing anyone will ever read. None of it tapped in to where I should be yet. 

Eventually, it will tumble into place like a lock being picked. I just have to toy around in my head until I break open the lock. 

Most important, kick the racist out. Bye Felicia.