I did a bunch of writing just this past Friday. It was good, not enough, but good. June is just such a busy month. I have to sneak time in whenever I can. I worked on my outline mostly, but I also squeezed out a little paragraph about my main character being unsure of the man she thought was the hero of the tale. Here is just a little bit, I skimmed it, but it isn't edited:
I stood behind a tree, those urban, specifically placed, carefully pruned trees. It was old enough, the trunk was think enough, that he couldn’t see me watching him. He was sitting at a table by the window, staring down at his cup. The sun shined through the widow, highlighting his face, but I wasn’t sure what I saw anymore. He was handsome, even desperate still. He was still a beautiful man, part of me wanted to run into his arms and live a storybook life. We would defeat whatever evil was plaguing him and live together, happily, forever. The other part of me, the sensible part that had a real life with a good job and great friends, thought, run.
I like it. I think this scene is going to be part of a sequence of moments that will be a turning point for the character.