developing a character from your notebook

They say that walking is a controlled fall. Harry’s control was less than that of the most. He seemed to most to rush rashly future-ward as his body strained forward, arms arcing, legs barely keeping himself caught.
One day, frost lay on the ground thick as a beetle’s brow. Harry stopped, looked into the sky and as an expression of utter serenity crept over his features he sank slowly down to the ground until he sat – soft as chewing gum – eyes wide as an ocean.
Expecting a life, he was surprised to see a blank white screen before his eyes.
Expecting a dream in reverse, he was surprised to see red text.
He had time to blink – twice – before the sky switched off, closely followed by everything else.


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