Creativity · Original fiction
Every morning, Em opened the bottom drawer and found a different weather report. CLOUDY WITH A CHANCE OF FINISHING. CLEARING AFTER A DIFFICULT QUESTION. None of the reports mentioned rain.
She blamed her flatmate, who denied knowing anything about it. On Thursday the drawer held a blank page. Em felt unexpectedly disappointed.
She wrote STILL UNDECIDED at the top and left it there. That evening another line had appeared: ASK SOMEONE WHO CAN HELP.
The flatmate finally confessed. The first reports had been hers, but not the last. Em showed the page to her visiting brother. He grinned. “I thought it was a shared notebook.”
They stopped pretending the drawer was predicting anything. They left it open, filled it with pencils, and gave the notebook an ordinary name: things we are trying to figure out.
Take a moment
When did the forecast become something more useful?