The Park, Late Saturday Morning

[not_a_haint]

On a bench in the park, there sat a Caleb.

He'd observed how nice it was outside and he could feel the creative juices flowin' so he'd fixed himself a bag of snacks, filled a thermos with coffee and set himself down here with his notebook to do some work on the pulp story that'd been percolatin' in his mind for a few months.

So naturally he was just sort of starin' off into space. But the notebook was open and he had his pen in his hand. That counted as working on his story right?

He could probably use a distraction.