Semi-closed but open for the money; those that needed framing done by Christmas past. And inventory-taking for the IRS, counting sheets of matboard, nails and measuring lengths of wood. Clean-up after months of not; piles and piles of cardboard to be cut, recycled into frame corner protectors.
And reading. And writing; moving on to Few and seeing what develops. And a lady too, an ending to her story, a change of Season in her life. But her story’s simple; Few’s is not. He must be mapped and followed forward, back in time and who he is–or what–is still the mystery.
Computer time in Quicken for the end of year. Surfing for a home for Big Tim Dawson too. Checking deadlines, checking style, checking tweaking still.
Phone work: Prescriptions to be filled and very quickly; insurance to be found and faster still. And in between the waiting for the ringing and a voice that says that we were missed.
Stubborn, hopeful, always.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology