She sat facing the white screen in the semi-lit darkness of her room, a lot past late midnight. A few minutes earlier the fear of dying old and lonely clutched steady at her heart. But now that fear had loosened its hold. The aftertaste of the novel she wound up earlier that day hung in the air. It smelled of the woman who had provoked her husband to murder her..
Sleep wouldn't be easy tonight she knew. She wondered if she should open the book case in the living room to re-read one of those novels that could calm her to sleep. She wondered if she would be able to figure out the key which belonged to the case from the confusing bunch of look-alikes. Her hands always shook when entrusted with such life-like tasks. Her throat felt dry. She thought if the jug on the dining table would have any water left. Years ago, studying for an exam one early morning she had seen this today in a flash..and she had laughed at it then, with expectant eyes.
She sank into the chair. She felt like writing something. What she saw in another flash were her bony fingers playing with her key rings and shaky legs walking back home, alone. She saw herself from behind. Just when she reached the steps, she turned back and her face froze into something that for an instant felt like a drunken smile. Would she be laughing at this one too, years later?