The Little Black Book
Everyday she woke up more tired than the day before. She concealed her body behind old tattered sweats. Her hair was placed in a mop-like bun and her slippers were covered in dirt. She scooped the dirty laundry off the floor on her way to the kitchen. Her hands almost behaved in a mechanic-like motion . There was not much time before the kids woke up. She found solitude in the early morning hours. The coffee brewed and the scent filled the room. The smell was pleasant. It was not the familiar smell of diaper blow-outs or spoiled milk. She watched the coffee drip slowly yet steadily into the pot. The way her eyes gazed at the brewing coffee was almost as if she were in a trance.
