Blog : Short stories

Chapter 36.

Chapter 36.

Read chapter 35 here with Cupcakemummy 

Winter outside and Winter inside my heart. I read her mail late last night and shouldn’t have. I should have known it would lead to a night of tossing and turning.  Somewhere around 3am I grabbed my ipod and put it on shuffle. Music, much like bread, tends to make things better.

The universe has a strange sense of amusement I think as Rebel Beat by the Goo Goo Dolls starts playing.

“We keep heading in the same direction
You become my own reflection
Is that your soul that you’re trying to protect
I always hoped that we would intersect, yeah

Give me time to cope and time to heal
Time to cry if its what you feel
Oh, life can hope, when it gets too real
I can hold you up when its hard to feel

Alive, alive
Alive is all I wanna feel
Tonight, tonight
I need to be where you are
I need to be where you are”

When I need music as distraction it ends up explaining my thoughts and feelings better than I ever could. And I call myself a writer? If you ask me real writers add lyrics to a melody. That is art.

Winter is angry at the Mateos. I knew it was coming and I know I shouldn’t feel so involved in their relationship but I can’t help it. Have I taken a second child away from them? I shake away that notion as I vowed to Mark I would stop blaming myself for shit.


Well, he ended up being one of those don’t judge a book by its cover cases. He cooked me dinner last night and we played scrabble. He lost. Horribly. In fact it’s hard to believe the man works in publishing.  He even tried to put in “Italian” words. I googled. They were totally made up but it was fun. I laughed. I haven’t laughed in a while. He made chicken and some fancy salad last night. Every so often he would toss a piece lettuce to the dog. I had no idea my dog liked lettuce so much. Vegetarian dog? Is that a thing? I am enjoying getting to know mark more. All the little things you only get to know when you really look a person. I mean really look at him. He is marvellous.

Why does the good always have to come with the bad? I get life is pretty unfair but it just seems cruel. To be happy and sad at the same time. There should be a word for that. Sappy. Sad and happy = Sappy.  I roll over and look at my alarm clock and its already 6am. I fill my cheeks and lungs with air and dive beneath my duvet. I would be able to pull it over my head of my vegetarian dog wasn’t asleep at my feet.

I prop up in my bed and shove a pillow behind my back and drag another closer to balance my laptop on. I flip it open and start typing the gibberish in my head.

Email: To: Winter

From: Iris

Subject. Ships in the night.

Oh Winter,

Forget about me for a minute, I knew you were close to the Matheo’s and my heart aches for you. I do not know why they didn’t tell you about their son. Maybe it hurt too much. You filled a void that they must have thought would be an empty hole forever.

Please don’t shut them out. I will help you. I will help you fix this. I promise. Please trust me. I know I might not deserve your trust but I am asking anyway.

I know what to do. I will tell you in due course.

Speak soon.


I jump out of bed and grab a copy of Feathers and Fur, the first box for autographing came yesterday. I open it up and start writing on the inside of the cover page.

Mama & Papa

We never speak of Antonio. I have said sorry more so many times the word has lost its weight and value. Little fragments of my soul drowned with those boys that day. I have written a childrens book in their honour. Their light little lives deserve to live on. In these pages you with find Antonio reincarnated as a little duck. A little duck whose friendship was so strong with a kitten, that he followed the kitten into another life. A wonderful whimsical life with no hurt or sadness. A cheerful life. That same life you created for Winter. She illustrated these pictures and now knows the truth about who the book was written about. Winter brought something back into your life that left the day the little duck flew away. Please don’t let Winter fly away when she needs you most. She does not understand your silence about your son all these years. I have no place in judging your actions or motives. But I plead; please let Winter feel the warmth of your love that she has gotten to know over the years. She told me all about your history.

Please channel disgust and hurtfulness towards me. I am the one who wrote this story. Winter simply brought it to life. As she does with everyone whose path she crosses.

All my love.


I wrap the book in brown paper and tie a little red string around it to form a bow on the top. I put the Mateo’s book aside and grab another copy.

Dearest Winter,

Thank you for teaching me it’s ok to let people in. Not all of them break things and leave. Some come and fix things that were broken ling before their arrival. If I never get to hug you, please know that this was all thanks to you. What you are holding in your hand right now is because of you. If you didn’t push me in the right direction and showed enthusiasm when all I felt was defeat, this would have never happened. Your name might be cold, but I assure you, your heart is the warmest I have ever had the privelage of knowing.

All my love. Always.


I turn the page around to see the inscription page I had printed for Winter as a surprise.

“Written for friends. Where ever they are. In all seasons”


Chapter 32.

Chapter 32.

Read Chapter 31 here with Cupcakemummy


32 missed calls.

4 voices messages

Message 1 – Received  7:24 am

Iris, it’s not what you think. It never was. I would never…please pick up and let me explain. I will not do this over voicemail. I am not 14 years old.

Message 2 – Received 12:03 pm 

Please for goodness sake put on your phone. I NEED to talk to you. She was having trouble with her mail so I went down to technical and sorted it out for her. That is what was happening down stairs. Not HER downstairs. Who cares what she has down there. Everyone stops looking once their eyes hit the boobs. Shit, not that I look at her boobs but you know she has them. Fuck this is just all going south. NOT her south. Iris please just pick up.

Message 3 – Received 18:46 pm

Look Iris, I like you. You should know I do by now. I like you too much to just give up on you on a voicemail. I’m going crazy here without you. Someone gave me cookies today and they were tasteless because I had no one here to call me fat for stuffing my face with baked goods. I don’t really know how this whole dating thing works these days but I thought we were together and I thought you knew that. I didn’t know there was a need to say it out loud but if that’s what it takes I will say it.

Message 4 – Received 21:01 pm

Iris. Please.

I listened to all three messages without an ounce of emotion but the fourth got me. He said please and now all I want to do is phone him and tell him I’m his and we can forget everything and just hug.  Naked.  But I can’t. It is just too late. I know it is not a train smash and If I call him I can fix this but I am not sure I want to and this scares the living shit out of me. If I get derailed by such a little misunderstanding what am I going to do when real shit hits the fan. The kind of trouble and heartbreak that flattens you when you least expect it. The kind that comes around on a random Wednesday afternoon.  I don’t think I can be with someone until I can be with myself. But I want to be with him. All of me want it.

My phone has been on for 3 hours and he hasn’t phoned again. Has he given up? Most likely.  I try to forget about this whole mess by distracting myself with the cookies Winter sent me with the book. I couriered the book to the publishers for the final beta copy and I must admit, I am rather excited about this. I know the duck and cat and I had our days but there is something that makes me smile when I hold it in my hands and see Winters illustrations. Who would have guessed me to be a children’s book author? I certainly wouldn’t have.  I stuff another peanut butter cookie in my mouth and a flood of emotion hits me like a cold shower. Now all I can think about is the cookies Mark says he ate. He has now even managed to ruin my treat. That dick. There is no way his cookies could have been near as delicious as these. Even if you dunk them in petrol they will be scrumptious.

I eat another for good measure and feed the dog. He has been kind to me the last few days and hasn’t pissed in the house once.  If it weren’t raining I would take him for a walk as a reward. I slip him a cookie instead. Dogs deserve pudding too.

My apartment is as messy as a teenagers mind so I attempt to create some sort of order. I start slowly, fluffing the couches and stacking my coffee table books in neat little piles. Cleaning has always been a good distraction for me. I don’t do it often enough. I move on to the dining room and kitchen. Mark sat on that table waiting for me to get ready. I dust the thought away and with the motion I swipe the dust off of the mantel piece above the old fire place.

Before I know it my home looks liveable again and I put the kettle on for a well deserved cup of coffee. I decide to let go of my notions to ignore the universe and open my laptop to get a few mails done.  I am sure Winter has mailed me by now and I have been avoiding touching my emails in fear of her knowing everything. About the Mateos,  my brother, and me.  But I can avoid no longer and I flip my laptop open.

She went to the office.  She saw Mark. My worries about my non-relationship quickly disappear behind my heavily thumping heart. She knows the Mateo’s so well. She speaks about them with such love and care and I know they must feel the same way about her. What a mess. How the hell am I going to tell her she just illustrated a book about their dead kid. My heart aches from the cruel words that just went through my head. He is not a dead kid. He is their loved son whom is no longer with them. Because of an accident. I keep reminding myself it was an accident. The awkwardness is just too much to deal with right now.  I need to tell the Mateo’s about the book, but I need to tell Winter about the Mateos. Will I ruin the relationship between them once they find out their “adopted daughter” unknowingly just reincarnated their son as a duck?

Questions and conflicts and imaginary dialogs play off in my mind it’s making everything hurt. I have no idea where to start with this. I catch myself staring at the framed picture of my brother on the mantel piece and a wave of calm comes over me. I just need to start. But gently.

Email To: Winter

From: Iris

Subject: Thank you for the cookies.

Dear Winter,

Those cookies are amazing. I can see why Michael never shares them.

I have something to ask you.  (Please think carefully before answering)

I need to tell you the truth about the book. The truth about the duck. And why and where he comes from. I told you the gist of the story about my brother but there is so much more to it.

If I tell you this story, there is no going back. It will changes things. Not only the way you see and read the book but much much more. It will change an important relationship you have in your life. It will change our friendship. The ripples of this story is reaching your life more than I ever imagined and I want you to have a choice. A bit of a “red pill blue pill” moment. You can choose the truth. All of it. Or you can choose to delete this email and life will go on as it has for you.

The choice is yours.

PS. I got Marks voice messages. Thank you for caring.

All my love,



I hit send and hope she thinks about this. I owe her the truth but the Mateo’s are her family. Will they feel different about her after they learn she knows the truth? I get woken from my daze with a knock on the door. Must be the Chinese food I ordered for dinner.

I open the door and my mouth does something my heart never does. It opened.

“Iris” Mark said as he stood there drenched from the rain.




Chapter 28.

Chapter 28.

Read Chapter 27 here with Cupcakemummy

I snuck a chocolate into the package for Winter. I had to buy Michael lunch to get him to tell me what Winters favourite sweet is. I figured her life needs some sweetness. God knows she must have her hands full with Michael. Although I can see what she sees in him. Not so much the looks. He is a bit too clean cut for my liking but he is rather cute. He has these little habits he thinks no one sees. I guess we all have those.  Michael must be working from home or be at a client today. His desk is vacant. The thought of messing with him is just too tempting and I grab my post’it notes and go to town on his cubical. It’s starting to look like a highlighter puked on it and I get lost in the tedious task of pasting each little note at the last ones edge. As I paste the last one I give it a swipe with my index finger to insure it stays put and stand back to appreciate my work of art. It is perfect.

Mark is also not in today but I know he is on a deadline with his client. A magazine has so I am sure he has his hands full. Flat White Magazine. I mentioned it to Winter a few weeks ago. They needed some illustration work done. I hope she got into contact with them.

It feels strange to have the office so quite.  I wonder if this is what Winters world feels like? Nothing but a little muzzled noise coming from somewhere outside.  My mind is a little all over the place today. As you can tell. I keep thinking it’s time to tell the Mateo’s about the book. It is party about their son after all. But how am I supposed to bring it up? “Oh hey, here is a children’s book about the child you lost and oh, your son’s character is a sad duck”.  The might just throw me with a loaf of bread. Not really a topic I think they want to crack back open. I am perplexed though. I can’t NOT tell them. I have to do it before we go to print. Or before the launch. Part of me never wants them to find out. It would just be easier.

I have been doodling on the back of an old calendar on my desk.  I might be a novelist but part of thinks my soul has always been a poet. (Albeit not a particularly good one)

Silent was her world. But not cold nor dark.

Grey were her eyes. But not her heart.

She lived in colours unseen by others.  Beautiful thing that smothers

Her soul was green, Spring. Her name was Winter.


I scrounge up the piece of paper and throw it into the bin in the far corner of the office. When I look up Mark is standing next to the bin clapping hands, with the biggest grin on his face. Gosh he is edible.

Mark: Nice shot.

Me: You sound surprised.

Mark: I didn’t know you were so…athletic.

Me: I am very athletic. You should see me run

Mark: Really?

Me: Yes, I am exceptional at shot distance running.

Mark: Oh really? What distance.

Me: Couch to fridge, I am the record holder.

Mark smiles and shakes his head. He walks over to my desk and leans over my cubical with folded arms. I can smell his aftershave. It smells of sweet pears and the ocean. It’s rather intoxicating and I struggle to focus on what he is saying.

Mark: Iris!

Me: Yes?

Mark: Wake up.

Me: I am awake.

Mark: It looks like your dreaming somewhere far away from here.

I smile at him.

Mark: I assume you went to town on Mike’s desk?

Me: He needed some colour. Don’t you think?

Mark: I agree. He seemed a bit lost lately. So pasta?

Me: huh?

Mark: can you cook pasta?

Me: yes, why? Well define cook.

Mark: edible

Like you, I think.

Me:  In that case yes. 

Mark: Done, dinner at your place. 7ish?

I try to argue but he leans over the cubical divider and plants a kiss on my cheek.  I immediately Google easy pasta recipes and get lost in words like “parboil” and sauté. I appreciate good food but couldn’t be bothered to cook fancy food for myself. Maybe things will change when it’s not just me anymore. A smile makes it way from my heart to my face. I have been alone so long the thought of coming home to someone is as good as my fairy tale gets. And I am completely ok with that. I don’t need swooping, white horse, flowers every night might kind of love. I need someone else on my couch that laughs at the same parts in a movie as I do.  He fits. It fits.

I finally set on a super easy recipe with chicken and bacon in it. Everyone loves bacon.  Well, everyone should. I hit print and before I make my to the copier room to pick up my print I hit send and receive and get a mail from Winter. I hit reply.

Email To: Winter

From: Iris


Hey Sweet pea,

SO glad the chocolate made its way there. Figured you would want something sweet to celebrate with. Enjoy it. When you have a chance please go over the last details of the beta copy. I would like to submit it to the printers as soon as possible. Once we are happy with the colours etc we can do the first print. I would be honoured if you were to sign one for me? I will treasure it forever.

I want to ask you some advice. I need to tell the family (of my brothers friend) that I used their child in book. I don’t know when to tell them or if I should tell them at all. I feel a little lost here. If it were your child, would you want to know?

I am so thrilled about you and Michael. Also good to know the man is good with gardening. He is husband material. Hold on to him.

I am cooking for Mark tonight. I am SO excited. I even Googled a recipe am hoping he wants me for dessert.  

Listen I have to run. I still need to go shopping for tonight. And shave!

Courier the copy back with your notes as soon as you can.


I log out of my computer and grab my bag on the way to copier.  As I approach the printer I see Mark leaning against the table with the guillotine. I am flooded with a warm desire to take off where we left it in there the last time. That room is hallowed ground to us.  I open my mouth to say something sexy I haven’t quite formed in my head and suddenly my breath is stolen. As if vacuumed from my body and I freeze. Breathless.  I see Pam lean in and kiss Mark on his stubbled cheek while she says “Thanks for the other night Marky. It was…fun.”

I let out an audible sigh and Mark jumps back from Pams grip as if she was poisonous.

“Iris! Please… it’s not what you think”



Chapter 24.

Chapter 24.

Read Chapter 23 here with Cupcakemummy


To: Winter

From: Iris

Subject: Hey, You are quite.

Hey Honey,

It’s been two days. Did I scare you off with the news of the cover? J Getting a bit worried. Please let me know we are still good to go.

Speak soon,





To: Winter

From: Iris

Subject: Ok I am freaking out.

Winter what the hell is going on? I am freaking out here. Michael took a week’s leave and I have NONE OF YOUR NUMBERS. His phone has been off this whole week. .

PLEASE let me know we are still good to go.

5 days and nothing…





What is it with people disappearing? The other day I couldn’t find the Mateo’s or Noah. The day he left me hungry. I had to settle for a bagel. A stale bagel. I went by the Mateo’s and the place was closed. Odd for a weekday but I didn’t want to intrude so I just left it. I have been enough of a burden to that family. I am a really worried about Winter. She is always pretty fast to reply. Shit I hope she isn’t backing out now. I will be severely ticked off if the is bowing out mere days before we are scheduled to submit. Perhaps I should look for a replacement. You know, just in case. I really like Winter. Really. But I can’t afford to screw this up. Not after my first novel. It was a hit and I am still not quite sure how that happened but it was a miracle that book saw the light of day. It was ever meant to be submitted actually. Michael proof read it and I think it was then showed to Mark who actually took it to the boss.  Wow, I only remembered that now. Mark and Michael made my dreams come true. Mark.

Mark is coming over tonight for drink. He texted me earlier saying I have delayed long enough and he isn’t taking no for an answer. I planned to work from home today to clean. But I can’t get Winter off my mind. I am terrified she drops me now.

I drop her one more mail before I need to clean up after the psycho dog.

To: Winter

From: Iris

Subject: Winter, Please

Where are you? It’s been a week since I last heard from you. I am on the verge of finding a new illustrator. I am worried about you Winter. If something is wrong please tell me. If I can’t help I can hook you up with some happy pills. (Ok maybe not, but I’ll try)

Please let me know you are ok.


I close my laptop and grab the broom. I have always been particularly good at cleaning. There is something that satisfies my soul when I make a surface glisten. It is therapeutic. The music is blasting and I seem to get lost in the cleaning. I might have taken it a step too far by dusting the tops of the kitchen cupboards. I doubt we will be having sex up there. But you can never be too sure.

I glance at my kitchen clock and realize its 30 minutes until the doorbells is supposed to ring. Shit. Crap, I haven’t shaved.  I run a bath and sink into the warm soothing water. I got bath salts from Mama Mateo and they are amazing. It feels like every part of my body is massaged but teeny tiny hands. She made it herself. Its rock salt and herbs from her garden. I breathe in the aromas and breathe out the weeks stress. As good as this feels I have a dark cloud hanging in the back of my mind. Winter.  It’s so hot and steamy in here I hang my one over the edge of the bath to cool off. I’m just closing my eyes for a second.


Shit. Crap. Fuck. I dozed off. I yell to the door while I jump, and I mean jump, out of the bath. “I’ll be there now, just a sec!” My hair is wet! Everything is wet! I caused a tsunami while getting out of the bath and the entire bathroom is a wetland. To make it worse the damn dog thinks its a game and is running his wet paws all over the house. Kill me now.

“Just a minute, I am coming! Please don’t leave”

Please don’t leave? I am so classy. Why am I such an idiot around him?

I run to the door with a cotton towel wrapped around me and my wet hair dripping down my breasts and clinging to my back. I swing the door open and he doesn’t say a word, but he bites his bottom lip and gives me a side-smile. “Look I am sorry I was in the bath and was warm and smelt so good…” He pulls me in closer mid sentence.  I can hear his heart beating faster. He is hugging me as if he hasn’t seen me in days. I love it. I take his hand and lead him into the lounge. He stops me in the foyer and pulls me into his arms once more. I stare up at him and lean it. Just as he leans in. Heads but.  Nice going Iris. Mark gives a little laugh and hugs me tightly with both arms wrapped tightly around my back. I imagine this is what people call “bear hug”.  He takes one hand and swipes the hair back from my neck. He gently kisses my bare neck and shoulder.

“Iris I like you. I like all the angry hand gestures when you are on your phone. I like that you pretend not to care about anyone but you are always mindful of others. I like the green in your eyes. The  gold shimmer in your hair when you swing your chair into the sun. The dimples when you smile. The sweet smell of your shampoo. I like it all. I want it all. Go put some clothes on and let me take you to dinner . Give me the chance to make you like me”

Oh Mark. If you only knew. My heart sinks a little. I can’t manage to get out anything audible and settle for a slight nod before I run off to get dressed.

I check my emails one last time while I am drying my hair.

I drop the hairdryer and it makes the noise of glass being shattered on the wood floor in my bedroom. I think I broke it. I cannot believe my eyes. My heart drops into my stomach and I feel wickedly guilty. Mark runs into the room screaming. “What happened? Are you ok?” He sees the hair dryer on the floor. “Iris, what’s going on?”

“Winter was in an accident” I say softly as I can feel panic rise up into my throat.

“Who is Winter?”

“My friend”



Chapter 12.

Chapter 12.

Read Chapter 11 here with Cupcakemummy

Shit. I’m late for work. Again. I twirl my paintbrush through my hair for it to hold up my messy bun. I have become quite fond of my paintbrush. Its 9am and right now I don’t care what anyone has to say about wearing stationary as cloths. I just need to get to that meeting. Off all days why did I have to over sleep today. It’s the publisher meeting for goodness sake.

Made it work just in time to run past the office kitchen and stuff my face with a bagel. While I am wiping the crumbs off my blouse Mark opens the meeting and introduces everyone in turn around the table. “Vince, our PR manager…John, our assistant editor…Iris, the children’s book author.”  Bloody hell Mark, hold your horses. The book isn’t even illustrated yet and he sounds ready to push it into the nearest book store.

I suffer through a further 2 hours of budgets, PR campaigns and “Iris, please don’t refer to children as little twats” At the end of the meeting I get up to shake everyone’s hands  and as I lean forward over the table my blouse pops its top button exposing me to the entire room. (Who happen to all be males) God I am classy. Thank god I wore lace today. I of course handled it like a champ and still shook everyone’s hands with my tits hanging out. As one does. Hey maybe they will like me more now.

At my desk I keep a box of safety pins, because I am me and this is not my first case of public indecency. I pin my blouse together and carry one with days grind. Ignoring the fact that Mark is still looking at me like I am edible. It’s amazing, we have worked together for 4 years and it takes my boobs hanging out for him to notice me. What did he think was under my shirt? Rolled up socks?


Winter mailed me, I mailed her back last night quickly. Crap I think I told her about therapy. I really shouldn’t respond to mails while drinking wine. I think she gets the whole black and white world – idea now. Maybe she gets me more than I realise. Hope not. Then again, I haven’t had a female friend since…well…since ever. Chicks can be such bitches. Guys are just easier to deal with. My sister and I were never close. Personally I think Emma blames me for…that day. It’s never been the same since. Or she could just be an unpleasant person. I am opting to go with the latter.

Better mail her back. I need the first rough layout by Friday.

Email : To: Winter

              From: Iris

              Subject: So whatcha doing?


Hi Winter,

God please don’t think I’m crazy. Therapy isn’t court mandated I swear.        

Please let her get the joke. She might attempt to have me committed.

I’m just trying to work through some issues. One of which is the pending children’s book I accidently created. One should not drink and write. It’s nearly as fatal as drinking and driving.

Should I leave that “accidental” in there? Meh, fuck it.

Anyway, Mark has informed me we need to submit our first layout by Friday. Think you can manage this?  5 days enough for rough sketches? I hope so, I kinda already told Mark we will be good to go.

Listen Winter, I hope you don’t mind the slightly more informal tone of this mail. Might as well get to know each other since we will be working quite close together for the next few weeks. So…tell me about yourself.



Right, let’s see where this goes.



Chapter 6.

Read Chapter 5 here with CupcakeMummy. 

The Duck and the Cat.

Ducking small and puffy met Mr. Bingly who was large and fluffy.

The little duck didn’t have any friends.

Mr Bingly the Cat didn’t follow any trends.

Other cats chased and ate birds, cruelly.

But Bingly longed for a friend, of any kind, truly.  

The first few lines read aloud by my publisher. I didn’t think anything would come of my Dr Suess knockoff ramblings. I was especially pissed when I email the folder to my publisher by accident. I seriously need to stop naming my word documents as “Doc 1.” Maybe it’s time to get out the old typewriter. God knows it’s safer than all this digital crap. Good old paper.

“It’s sellable Iris. It’s very sellable”

I don’t know how I feel about going from Sci-Fi to Children’s lit. It feels a bit backwards. But hey, if Madonna can go from Virgin & Material Girl to publishing children’s book (Written in her best fake British accent) then why the hell can’t I? It will cover rent for the next few months and maybe I can have it published under an alias.


Holy crap on a cracker. It’s this ridiculous book is going to see the light of day. Publisher has set the dates and we are going ahead and get this. Michael suggested an illustrator he knows and sent her the brief. They want a 3 part series. Is this even happening? What have I gotten myself into now? Now I’m a children’s book author? I DONT EVEN LIKE CHILDREN. They are soft and wet and sticky and noisy and time consuming and they end up breaking your heart. Fuck it. It’s money.


I dug out my old type writer. The one responsible for my first novel. My “one hit wonder” as the London Times so eloquently put it. I packed enough paper to retype the bible and set off to Papa Mateo’s. They are kind and allow me to sit there for hours typing and working on my expanding waist line. They make the most amazing fresh breads. God I want to snort it, it smells so good. I need to conjure up another two stories about the stupid duck and cat. As I am typing away wasting paper because I have no idea what I am doing and I might not have kids but I am pretty sure I can’t use the words “butt hole” or “fuck” in a kids book. My phone beeps.

Email: From: Michael

             To: Iris

             CC: Winter, Colour Media House


Hi Iris,

I mentioned to you a while ago I sent the rough character descriptions to an illustrator.  I have cc’d her in, Winter.

She will be contacting you for a more in-depth description. I have also taken the liberty of forwarding her the final draft of Book 1. (Also, please come up with a better name than “Book 1”)

Play nice ladies.



So now I’m a bitch? “play nice” Shit. Maybe she is a bitch. I take the semi-chewed paint brush out of my hair and tap it on the type writer to the tune of Dia Frampton’s Don’t kick the chair, playing on my iPod. I had grown fond of wearing the paint brush. Besides, it’s easier to find in hand bag than a hair pin. I guess I’ll wait to hear from Winter. What kind of name is “Winter” anyway?