Here’s the first paragraph of a new story I’m working. I’m very happy with how the work is progressing which never happens so perhaps it’s good or perhaps I’m loopy.
“Signs are very important. You can’t ever forget that,” MaryRose said, fluttering between the coffee machine and stovetop. News radio blared from the tiny, much duct-taped transistor radio as MaryRose gently stirred the eggs. She watched her son absently scratching his stubbly beard, rubbing his chin like his father used to when he was pretending not to listen.
Her son’s eyes never left his phone. Swiftly, MaryRose took out two slices of wheat bread from the loaf on top of the cookbooks on top of the breadbox and headed for the toaster.
“Remember that thing that happened to your Aunt Miriam. I told her and told her but she never listened to me. Matthew are you listening to me?”
“The eggs are burning.”
She raced to the stove with the bread, stopped short and then ran back to the toaster. Matthew slipped his phone into his hip pocket and stalked over to the cupboard. He opened the door swiftly as cockroaches slithered away frantically from the light. Matthew grabbed the nearest cup rinsed it in the sink. MaryRose hurried to the stovetop to rescue the charred eggs.
“Matty, they’re not too bad. Just a little crispy on the edges. They’re good, good,” MaryRose stammered cheerfully, switched off the stove, and hurried to the cabinet for a plate. A shower of dead and live roaches spilled onto the crowded countertop.
“Damn, damn,” MaryRose whispered to herself, while hurrying back to the stove. She slid two eggs onto the plate and turned to watch Matthew walk out of the back door with his backpack and coffee cup.
MaryRose watched the door slam shut. She left the eggs on kitchen table at Matty’s place and then shuffled to her corner of the sofa bathed in the soft blue of the television set.
circularstaircase 