Silence embraces her, its first sign of affection all day.
She breathes the sweet scent of baby shampoo, kissing the tops of the soft, damp hair before tip-toeing away and shutting the door.
She stumbles on something sharp as she walks down the stairs. She catches herself and looks down. A Lego minefield greets her and she slows, taking her time to avoid another attack.
Pots, pans, dishes, and cups beckon from the kitchen.
She closes her eyes, willing them away and turns, avoiding the disaster as she heads for the living room.
Another toy catches her toe and a curse escapes her lips.
She continues on, determined.
The couch waits for her and she sinks into its softness with a sigh, rubbing her injured toe.
She glances at the clock.
Damn, I’m late.
She reaches for the cool plastic resting next to her, opening the lid. The laptop whirs to life, the bright glow lighting her face in the room.
Her fingers move without thinking, the ritual entrenched. The screen becomes brighter, the background all white with a blinking cursor.
She closes her eyes. And waits.
A whisper tickles her ear and she smiles.
Welcoming her muse.
This week we asked you to give us 8:00 -AM or PM, fiction or creative non-fiction- but 8:00. In 200 words or less.
* * *
Exactly 200 words.
This is fiction, based heavily in fact.
Only lately, the muse hasn’t been coming. Life is too crazy. I miss her.
Concrit is welcome as always. Even more so now that I write so little as of late.