I'm going to be pathetic and preface this by saying I'm a bit 'written out'. I've started working on a new novel and editing another, and I'm feeling brain-dead. So if the writing exercise doesn't make sense, then just go with it!
This exercise, set by the lovely Nixy Valentine, was to go outside and sit for a moment or two. Then, write about something you didn't notice at first. My observations come courtesy of the Central Line on the London Underground, where you're never short of something to feast your eyes upon.
She stares vacantly at her fingers. Short brown hair cropped close to her head, trendy hand-bag, cool (but not cute) pink trainers - there's nothing to distinguish her from the surrounding commuters. Her hands clutches a tiny metal object. I hear the 'click' as it slices through her nail. The nail arcs into the air, falling amidst the rest of the train's rubbish. Then, slowly, she draws her fingertip into her mouth. Her tongue moves across the skin.
One nail down, nine to go!