Saturday, May 3, 2008


Jill was sitting at her desk, pencil in her mouth. She was chewing so hard that the unpleasant taste of lead was beginning to flood her mouth. She didn't really notice beyond a vague sense of being uncomfortable. She couldn't see beyond the blank baby pink page in front of her. She had to get the tone right. The first sentence was critical, particularly with a note like this one. She kept taking the pencil out of her mouth and putting it on the paper before sighing and putting it back in her mouth. Finally she glanced up at the clock and started writing furiously.

The sun was streaming through the window like a bright spotlight onto the paper, almost as though Jill were receiving divine intervention to assist her in this difficult task. Jill signed the note with a flourish, filled with relief at having completed this nerve-racking note. She restrained herself from adding a smiley face to the second L in her name and got up to check on her children outside. She was going to have to rush to get the note in Bianca's backpack before the bus arrived.

Jill strode out to the side yard and took in the sight of her two children swinging in the early morning sun. The sky was a dazzling blue and the brightness of the day was almost overwhelming. Jill picked up Bianca's pink backpack and opened the main compartment. She reviewed the note one last time before folding it up and placing it in the bag. She had really hit the nail on the head. It was perfect.

Dear Nancy,
I really enjoyed our conversation yesterday. As you suggested, I do have a few more questions I'd like to discuss. Would you be free for lunch next week? Or would drinks be more convenient? Let me know what works best for you.
- Jill

The bus driver pulled up to the curb and honked once, startling Jill out of her reverie. Bianca ran up to her and took the backpack from her mom. Jill gave both her children a quick peck on the head and waved to them as they boarded the bus. As the bus drove away, Jill chuckled to herself. She was certain that this was the first time a first grade backpack had been used for such illicit purposes. A summer of suburban dangerous liaisons was about to begin.

This post was inspired by the Sunday Scribblings prompt: compose.

No comments: