The last couple of days he’d made a lot of progress on the script but today had been a struggle from the first word. His mind was further into the story. He woke thinking about the day Livi had left and he couldn’t get it out of his mind. Maybe he should do like he did when he was writing the book. When he’d get caught up, held prisoner by a memory he’d write it. It didn’t matter if it was in chronological order. He had never really planned on submitting it anywhere. He just wrote because he couldn’t trust himself to actually tell anyone about it. Maybe that was what he should do. He opened a new file on his computer and flexed his fingers. He paid little attention to what his fingers typed. He was caught up in what was playing out in his mind. August 2001 Max felt like a man preparing to be led to the gallows. He couldn’t stop time nor could he slow it down. He could only feel it marching at him with relentless determination, each step robbing him of precious seconds. Livi was leaving today.
