Merrirose Reilly

Julia's Black Book

Julia was waiting, sitting as usual, on the front porch of the farmhouse, her gray hair loose and stirring in the warm spring wind. The blue cardigan sat primly on her bony frame and as always, her smile was framed by the pearls at her neck. Julia always wore blue on Wednesdays. She waved when she saw my car pull up the drive, and stood up to meet me as I approached with her delivery.