The Writer Reminisces

I feel quite sick. I don’t know why – I usually do, but I don’t pay any attention to it.

My self consciousness levels have skyrocketed; it’s only normal, isn’t it?

In all my twenty four years of life, I have never had a boyfriend, or been in a relationship. Emma usually has a new ‘companion’ every month.

She’s come to me more than once, soaked in tears, sobbing and holding a tissue to her face. More than once she’s vowed to never get into another relationship.

Next thing you know, she’s introducing me to a computer technician called Dexter.

Well, that’s Emma for you.

My writing was interrupted by the chiming of the grandfather clock. It chimed twelve times; it’s almost lunch time.

That grandfather clock belonged to Grandpa Matthew. I remember being nothing but a little toddler and hearing the strikes of the clock, calling me to supper and bed respectively.

Mom used to joke that she’d smash it to smithereens one day.

Oh, she really did despise that clock.

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