I plopped my math textbook into my backpack and hurried out of my bedroom and down the stairs. Finally, I was done with my homework. Every single bit of it.
“Honey, what are you doing?” called my mother from the kitchen. I took a whiff of her world famous apple pie, which she made every week.
“I’m going on the computer,” I called back. “I have some e-mailing to take care of,”. I was lying, once again. All of my e-mails could wait. I was on my way to log onto my favorite website, ficlets.com. I loved ficlets almost as much as I loved my mom’s cooking. Heck, I loved it more than my moms cooking. It was the best website ever. I could talk to other authors who liked writing about the same things that I liked too. But, my mother couldn’t know about this. If I told her about ficlets, she would somehow hack into my account, and read all my poems about Kyle Wadsworth, but he’s another story. Only I knew about ficlets. No one knew. Well no one I knew had any clue about ficlets. It was my guilty pleasure.