Like a family member…
Washing the dead body of a loved one…
Before burial…
I went thought my house yesterday with a cloth…
Wiping away tiny smudges on walls.
Though I didn’t have to; I had hired a cleaning service…
I wanted the new owner to see the house I designed…
In all its pristine glory.
I walked through each room saying good-bye…
Memories surfaced, tears spilled.
But I didn’t want to become too maudlin…
So not long after…
I grabbed my purse and headed for the door.
Hmm? Where are my keys?
They weren't in my purse nor my pockets. Nor on the counters.
That’s impossible!
I searched everywhere again. And again!
No keys?
What’s going on?
And then fear gripped me…
What if the house wouldn’t let me leave?
What if it was pissed I sold it to a new owner...
And was going to keep me here forever?!
I fled out the door towards my car panting…
But then…
What if somehow…
The garage door came down on its own and trapped me?
Breathing heavy, my mind whizzed.—how will I escape?
And just as I realized there was no way...
There—on the front seat—my keys!
I was safe!
Phew! That was close!
Urrrrr…
No…
That was silly.
But really it’s not my fault…
Because once again…
I was a victim of…
An attack of my write brain!
So?
Does your write brain ever scare you?
Always, Em-Musing
