Six Sentence Sunday is open to all writers. Just pick a six sentence passage from anything you’ve written—published, unpublished, whatever—and post it on your blog on Sunday.
Registration for the upcoming Sunday list opens the previous Tuesday evening at 5pm CST. More information is here.
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More from my drawer novel.
I skipped the shower scene, but someday I hope to have Clyota’s bathroom fixtures. If I start saving now, they should all be invented by the time I can afford ’em.
Who needs a retirement fund anyway?
I put on a pair of thick socks and wandered into the kitchen, snagging the letter as I went.
Ordering up a cup of hot tea, I slit open the envelope and did my best to engross myself in Aunt Rosie’s five-page, handwritten report on her latest mystery plot, the day by day weather in New Zealand, and the whimsical foibles of Mr. Higgins, her Main Coon.
I deciphered and read every solitary word—twice–then put the last page down and rubbed my eyes.
No one could make me respond to the lieutenant’s message or take that damned box if I didn’t want to—he couldn’t reach through the screen and drop it in my lap.
So why was I contemplating cleaning out my kitchen cabinets, or even scrubbing the grout, just to avoid the terminal in the spare room?
I tossed the letter aside, got up, and marched down the hall.
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Previous Installments:
First ♦ Second ♦ Third ♦ Fourth ♦ Fifth ♦ Sixth
Seventh ♦ Eighth ♦ Ninth ♦ Tenth ♦ Eleventh ♦ Twelfth
Earful of Cider 