As I placed my head on the pillow to sleep, I suddenly thought about Artie. My heart choked up as if something was squeezing it, hard.
The pain pushed the blood, salt, and tears out of my soul.
I rose out of bed, realizing that sleep was impossible, and walked quietly, almost hypnotically, over to the master bath. What I needed was a good long soak in the tub . . . Continue reading
I consider taking a walk, but then I remember I need my crutches.
Not that I need the crutches. My leg is fine now. The break was clean; the cast inconvenient but a nice attention getter; the crutches cumbersome and ugly.
I would have liked to have thrown the tall rigid walking implements into the trash. Or at least recycled them for some other poor soul to use.
But, sagely, I left my un-needed crutches standing in the foyer, by the front door.
For just this kind of day. . .
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I love romance.
I dream romance, read romance, believe in the power of romance.
Even though I’m as single as they come.
Yup, 40 and never been married.
Forty, and I haven’t had one romantic moment in my life.
Or, at least, not romantic (enough) for me. Continue reading
As soon as I placed the gold filigreed necklace around my neck, I felt it.
A whoosh of sweet air, a heaviness around my legs, a flutter to my heart.
“What is this?’ I asked the antique jeweler. “Where did this come from?”
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This time, I choose to not answer the phone call.
I’ve had 13 of them, one every morning, at precisely 10:59 a.m.
The number does not identify the caller, so it’s no one I know. 277-453-6657.
When I take the call 13 days ago, I figure it’s a solicitation, but then again, it could be from Hollywood, accepting the screenplay to my latest book.
But instead, a deep, husky male voice proclaims: “I know what you did.”
Then, a click and silence. Continue reading
