Someone scratches his head and it seems to cause an itching epidemic.
Everywhere I turn, people are itching and scratching and tickling away at invisible creatures

I suddenly become extremely aware of the smell of my shampoo.
The one that smells like green tea but not the boring green tea;
The lemon flavored green tea.

I don’t know.
I never was much of a tea-drinker anyway.

The click of a pen;
The turn of a page.
A pretty girl furiously erases words from her paper.
I guess she made a mistake.

It’s funny how, if you write with a pencil, you can erase any blunder, any attempted thought, despite how grave the miscalculation may be.
But, when we use a pen,
Our mistakes stay.
Fallible human errors, scratched into paper for eternity,
Lying blissfully unaffected by whether or not we aspire to correct them.

Well, I made a mistake.
It was with a pen.

I wish I had been using a pencil.

I wish I could erase.