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This is from a WIP, a holiday short that's a second-chance romance. This one has a bit of a scifi element. Working title is "Snow Angel". I'm continuing where I left off last week. Eva, the female MC, is in her mid-seventies. Caroline is her niece. We're in Eva's POV. Last week ended with this:
I can’t stop the deep sigh, my chest expanding then falling. I’m so tired of this argument. “He was here.”
This week's snippet:
Without looking at me, she pulls cans of tomato soup and a package of crackers out of the bag. She adds a box of instant potatoes, and two pouches of beef gravy mix to the crackers and soup.
I’m grateful that she brings me groceries, but I hate that mushy, old-people food. Has she forgotten I still have teeth?
Caroline folds her reusable shopping bag into a neat little
square, then tucks it into her designer purse. “You know, you don’t have the best record for
being…mentally stable. It’d be easy for people to judge you as being off your
rocker—and I mean that in a clinical sense.”
A little more if you care to read on:
But the bad things stay right there, waiting for a reminder, for a reason for the tongues to start wagging all over again. It’s a sad commentary on human nature. And I don’t think it’s ever going to change.
Oh well. It doesn’t matter what they say. Now I know where those memories went. Zhomas told me.
I’m not a nutter. Never was.
That's it for this week. Thank you for all of your kind and supportive words. And thank you for visiting! Have a good week!