Carrie Brokeamateurs

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As I sat at my window, watching a girl across the street attempt to carry a cello, a baguette, and a dying monstera plant all at once, I realized: she was the richest person on the block. She was messy. She was struggling. She was an amateur. carrie brokeamateurs

If this isn't what you're looking for, please provide more context, and I'll do my best to help you create a solid feature. : As I sat at my window, watching

Outside, the night had a crispness that belonged to the city and not to curated gatherings. Carrie sat on the stoop and read. The stories were good—some of them were the best she'd ever published—but between the lines she felt absent. The howl of the actual people was missing. The margins, where the amateur wrote messy notes, had been erased. She was an amateur