Robert Bern

Where There's a Will

“You’re always writing in that old thing” she chuckled. “That’s one hell of a shopping list for me, Mary”. Mary looked up from her bed of pillows, her half-moon spectacles glinting in the soft light of the mid-morning sun, which now carved a neat slice of warmth into the room. A wry grin gently parted her kindly, aged features. “Well Sam, I do have to work on my writing career, you know” Mary retorted exaggeratively. They shared a short laugh before Sam went back to folding fresh bedlinen, the fragrant wafts of aroma masking the slightly musty scent of the bedroom.