The circle

In the morning, Curt thinks about writing a sentence, just one sentence, and he thinks about it throughout the day, for hours, giving this one sentence some serious thought, some weight, forgetting and remembering in a panic, eating a sandwich and salad, thinking about the sentence, thinking about it not-so-much and then thinking about it, the rigamarole of writing one sentence, until at last he writes it down and wonders if it's good enough, exhausted, with sweaty armpits (how dramatic, he thinks) and he sleeps through the plumb-black night and the next day, in the morning, the birds wheeling over the house, Curt thinks about writing a sentence.