Susan’s Stories
My mother says I taught myself to read by the time I was four. I couldn’t wait to discover the magic of words. I remember sitting at the breakfast table reading the cereal box. When finished, I read it again. I am addicted to words.
People ask me how often I write—writers are always writing. Even without a piece of paper in front of us, words are bouncing and buzzing in our heads like bees trapped in a glass jar.
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COVERING UP
“Are all these coats yours?” asks JP, my handyman, as he tightens the hinges on my front closet.
“Yes,” I say. Now that I look at them, there are quite a few--especially for someone who lives in Arizona.
“Why?” he says.
“Well . . .,” my mind scrambles to concoct a reason. “I hate to be cold,” I finally say.