I'm bored. Let's write.
We started one of these continue-the-story games ages ago, remember? Shall I start?
E: Pebbles crack and tumble under her feet. Her shoes were not made for walking.
J: The shore had been a place where children came to play, but none were here today or have been for awhile. A storm was brewing, whipping the distant grey clouds into a frenzy of lightening.
E: “you’re late.” The man said, as she approached. “Your coordinates were off by five centuries.” She replied, her eyes the colour of the electrified clouds. J: “What is a couple of years compared to the half-length of the galaxy?” His fingers traced the lines on his own palm, then looked up. “Given that it is constantly expanding.” The corners of her mouth rested into a familiar smirk, and immediately the man no longer felt safe.