He was after the truth. At least, that's what he told himself.

He believed it, but any rational person

on the outside could see he was lying to himself. It was apparent he was really only after his own
truth that he'd already decided and was after this truth because the facts didn't line up with the
truth he wanted. So he continued to tell everyone he was after the truth oblivious to the real truth
sitting right in front of him.

He collected the plastic trash on a daily basis. It never seemed to end. Even if he cleaned the entire
beach, more plastic would cover it the next day after the tide had come in. Although it was a futile
effort that would never be done, he continued to pick up the trash each day.

I'm meant to be writing at this moment. What I mean is, I'm meant to be writing something else at
this moment. The document I'm meant to be writing is, of course, open in another program on my
computer and is patiently awaiting my attention. Yet here I am plonking down senseless sentiments
in this paragraph because it's easier to do than to work on anything particularly meaningful. I am
grateful for the distraction.

It was a rat's nest. Not a literal one, but that is what her hair seemed to resemble every morning
when she got up. It was going to take at least an hour to get it under control and she was sick and
tired of it. She peered into the mirror and wondered if it was worth it. It wasn't. She opened the
drawer and picked up the hair clippers.

The water rush down the wash and into the slot canyon below. Two hikers had started the day to
sunny weather without a cloud in the sky, but they hadn't thought to check the weather north of the
canyon. Huge thunderstorms had brought a deluge o rain and produced flash floods heading their
way. The two hikers had no idea what was coming.