November

Her service wrenched the heart. Such a proper, helpful woman, to be cruelly cast away even if just for a month. I decorated her cottage with flowers, brought her the elements of style, and ignored the tears in her eyes as she asked me why. Why was I bricking up the doors and windows?

It’s November, I replied.

I can help you get through this, she said. Have I ever let you down before?

Irish music, soft and sweet played in the background. It is not that you let me down, I told her. You are just too good at your job.

She had no answer to that, and I layered in the last line of bricks, I heard my inner editor weeping.

But this is National Novel Writing Month and there is no place for her here.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s