For NaNoWriMo this year I'm fleshing out Christiana's story.
I walked into the store that day expecting to give up the last bit of him that I knew. When my mom moved back to France she left a house filled with his stuff. I had no clue what to do with all of it, old books and a record player. My friend Alexis suggested we bring it to a thrift store, apparently it was something people actually did, buy other people’s used stuff.
May Rose’s Story
I sat at the front desk sorting vinyl additions of Mozart and Bach, apparently some bozo didn’t know the treasures they had. I could hardly bare to put the 50 cent stickers on these. They were classics. I guess in the digital age no one had use for vinyls anymore. But none the less I made up my mind to bring one home with me. Do a little scratching and see if I couldn’t bring some life back into the old records.
Life didn’t owe me a thing and I didn’t owe life anything. I had served my fair share of people, and in my old age I had enough people serve me. It was a liberating thought to be able to do whatever I wanted whenever I wanted, to move on my whims. To dance naked in the rain, not that I’d ever do that but the knowledge that I could spurred me on. I had always been the lady in the neighborhood with the cookies. After school all the children would run to my house for milk cookies and piano lessons. Those were fun days back then, but I was slave to their dreams, catering to little divas that had dreams of Julie art and the symphony orchestra.