The Little Black Book- Writer’s Digest 94th Annual 1st Place Winner!

Part One

     At the kitchen table, you drank your coffee and you wrote. I caught you sometimes, early in the morning, chewing on your glasses, scribbling in your black leather notebook and I wondered what you wrote that captured your attention so. Wrapped in your purple velour bathrobe, the smell of coffee, of burnt toast, untouched, your auburn and gray hair wildly independent, you seemed so focused, though not on us which I found disconcerting.  Sometimes, when you didn't notice me, I watched you, how different you seemed sitting there, writing, tugging absent-mindedly at a solitary piece of hair that hung down your forehead. All your concentrated effort on the little book, scribbling, scratching out, confiding in it that which we would never be privy to, long sentences that seemed to flow effortlessly out of the end of your pen as it tried to keep up with your thought processes.  We would never know this side of you. 

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The Loving Mother-Fiction

Jane pulled back the curtain and peeked through to get a better look at the woman across the street as she closed her front door and walked clickity -clacking down the driveway to her car. Jane couldn't believe a new girl had already taken over, considering the last one hadn’t been gone very long at all. But, then, isn't that the way these days? The sheets are hardly cold before a new one takes over…

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