Editing is not merely the elimination of words. I tend to do that: strip down until the sentences are clear and bare. But I have to not be afraid of expansion, though I worry it will appear meandering and fluffy.
The story begins to feel like a body patched together. A snip here, a new layer of skin there. Blazing pink lines and soft white scars.
Additional note to self: putting in thirteen miles over two days after weeks of not a whole lot leaves one’s legs tender. Very tender.