All Evidence To The Contrary

Here's pentultimate scene in the story. Thanks so much for reading!

Driving home, I was glad the night was over, but my hands were shaking so badly that I could barely steer the car. I walked into my apartment and realized that my arms were sore from trying not to touch Kevin during the night. I didn't know if this soreness was the most depressing detail from the experience, but it felt like it.

I hate entering places that have been empty overnight, but I reassured myself that it was okay, that there was no one to whom I would have to explain myself, but I couldn't get over the feeling that I wasn't alone, all evidence to the contrary.

After resting on the couch for as long as I could, I performed my morning ablutions, looking in the mirror, thinking, "Who's the fairest of them all?" Not me, not anymore. My mother used to say, "Are you trying to make yourself look bad?" when she didn't approve of my clothes or hairstyle. I wasn't, but I wondered if I'd changed.

Sorting through the mail, I found the usual bills and coupons, my hands fumbling through them, looking for something good. When I figured out there was nothing I wanted to keep, I separated the bills to pay later, tossing everything else in the trash, including those flyers with the faces of the missing, those desperate pleas from people brave enough to express their desires, people hoping for reunions with the ones they love, however unlikely, however distant.

Michelle's Spell of the Day

"A man has to be Joe McCarthy to be called ruthless. All a woman has to do is put you on hold.” Marlo Thomas

Cocktail Hour

Playoff Shot: Whiskey over ice in a Pistons shot glass!

Benedictions and Maledictions

Happy Tuesday!