A New Day

            Betsy sat down, with pen and paper, to the serious business of changing her life. Indeed, that very evening she had stood in front of the body-length bedroom mirror, naked – one thing she was sure never to do again – and she had thought, well, she had not thought much at all. It was more of a sustained look, one of vacancy thinly masking mild incredulity, over-top a deeper and barely visible disgust. She had briskly turned her robe around her shoulders, whisking away all the bulges and folds. She now sat at the kitchen table, the pen tapping the empty page, as though summoning the words to appear.

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