This morning, I woke early, considered getting up to write, then got back into bed and curled up cozily, mind drifting. I thought, maybe it’s more important to lie my head on my husband’s chest, listen to his heart beating, take in his warmth, than follow whatever wants to drag me out into the world. I wondered how many years we have left together. I wondered which of us will be left mourning the other, which one’s last days will be untended. It’s all thievery at the end, I’m starting to suspect, all bits and pieces dropping away. The happy ending, if you get it, is the middle part, when you might not even notice because of life pulling every which way. After that, who’s willing to tell the rest of the story? The truth is, I’m no longer skimming ahead to find out what’s next. I’m going to linger here for a while, savouring each word.

From my current daily writing practice with three women across the continent. Word prompt: thievery. From one day last week.