And now possibly a third...

Although the story is still in an infant stage, I have fallen in love with a more wordy, descriptive style that has been developing as a I continue to write... an excerpt from the newest writing:

She spoke to me in metaphor, like a Hemingway story, those thick twisting ribbons of symbolism churning and diverging until finally no chance of a tangential thought was possible.

The sun had risen late that morning, as though night had overslept its alarm as well, apparently reluctant to let go of the trees, the leaves and the branches of the trees.

I smiled back as my I overheard my autonomous reply of agreement creak from my tired lips, but I smiled because I could smell fresh coffee in the air.

And though the day was just beginning to unfold, it also was slowly ticking away, and choosing at that moment to prefer the latter, I closed my eyes and fell back asleep.