Circles the table [slowly]: "You are not that old yet." She muses, picking up the top book and fingering through it gently. Fondly.
"I can almost smell the new pages... well, almost."
Halfway through, a clean page displays the word After. She begins reading. Laughs here and there. Smiles, frowns, and soon becomes puzzled.
"What is the point of reading a book if the end hasn't been written yet?"
Glances out the window. The sun is still high in the sky. She rubs the spine thoughtfully.
"Well... there's time before the end of the day."
Lace curtains swish. Fade into black.

2 comments:
nice one! ah the unfinished book....our lives are amazing now if we could just figure out how to make ourselves useful! haha
you are brilliant.
i'm privileged you call you friend.
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